Slytherin's Heart
by Jason de L'Epee
Summary: A young graduate of Hogwarts recounts his journey of self-discovery as a Slytherin, all the while as peer pressures and other magical and non-magical forces guide or hinder him. It only gets more complicated during the Triwizard Tournament. (The events run parallel to the books, not the movies).
1. Part 1

**SLYTHERIN'S HEART**  
by Jason de L'Epée

FOREWARD: I've never toyed with the idea of making a one-shot Harry Potter fanfic, but here I am. I was inspired to do this after trying out Pottermore, and being surprised by my results. After recomposing myself, I began to see why someone like me would be placed into the house he would be put in, and soon after that, a story formed. So here is the story of Ewan Colquhoun of Slytherin.

This is dedicated to my LGBT brothers and sisters living in Russia where they can't live freely. May they finally rise up and seize the day when those that oppress equality fall and are forgotten.

XXXXXXXXXX

I stood on the parapets high above the Hogwarts grounds, overlooking the front courtyard. I could see stone statues that used to be just inside now standing firm against the unseen but inevitable tide against us, while witches and wizards below were casting protection spells around the entire castle. For as long as I've attended Hogwarts, I never imagined this day would come. I passed my N.E.W.T.'s scare three years ago from Hogwarts, and worked in the Ministry of Magic's Improper Use of Magic Office for two of those years. Quite briskly after leaving Hogwarts, the world became a dark place, especially after rumors of You-Know-Who coming back, and those were later confirmed. I left in 1997, and I dodged quite the insidious spell after hearing what happened to the Ministry of Magic. Now I am here, getting ready to battle one the greatest dark wizards of all time, and a man from my own house at Hogwarts!

My name is Ewan Colquhoun, and I'm from Slytherin house. I've heard every single thing you could imagine about Slytherin, but Merlin was a Slytherin too, as is the Potions master who is here somewhere in Hogwarts. When I was sorted into Slytherin, I felt myself freeze like I'd been hit by the Full-Body Bind Curse, but while I was eating at the Slytherin table during my first day of classes, I got an owl from my father saying that he was proud that I was to be in Slytherin, which is kind of ironic since he was in Hufflepuff. He wrote a letter to tell me that being sorted in a house is only a small part of what I was meant to be, but that ultimately, my own fate was mine to decide.

So I stayed in Slytherin, not that I had any choice mind you, but I stayed willingly. Slytherin gave me everything I wanted for a child wizard: power, intelligence, and a will to be the best and more. Year after year I've excelled at my studies, passed all of my O.W.L.'s and managed to get O's, E's and A's in all but two of my O.W.L.s. My N.E.W.T.s were a little more across the board, but I passed the ones I needed. Thankfully Divination is not necessary for my work.

"Are you scared?"

I looked at the source of that voice, and looked into the silver eyes of a man I met only three short years ago: Oleg Mikhailov, formerly of Durmstrang. I met him during my final year at Hogwarts, when the students of Durmstrang visited Hogwarts as a part of the Triwizard Tournament, along with eleven other of his classmates. While all eyes were on the Triwizard contestants, I managed to form a friendship of sorts with Oleg while most of my house were more preoccupied with Viktor Krum, Durmstrang's Goblet-chosen champion. Looking away, I said to him, "A little."

"I know."

Oleg was no Legilimens and was decent enough to not use the spell either, proclivity of the Dark Arts for a Durmstrang student notwithstanding, but Oleg was an observant wizard; he always seemed to know what one was feeling. Empaths weren't something exclusive to the wizarding world, but it wasn't the first time I wondered if Oleg was one. "This isn't something I had thought I'd be doing in my lifetime, and moreover at my old school." I turned to Oleg.

"You should not be doing this at all," Oleg said in his Russian dialect.

"No one should," I said back. "But such is the way when a dark wizard decides that he will stop at nothing to kill the famous Harry Potter."

Oleg nodded. While we were waiting for the dark tides of You-Know-Who's army to come sweep us away, Harry Potter himself was scouring the castle for something, although few knew what exactly. Very shortly after Harry Potter arrived at the castle, You-Know-Who gave an ultimatum: surrender Potter or be destroyed. Most of my own house turned on Potter nearly instantly, and Professor McGonagall in retaliation had all of Slytherin house removed. I was the only Slytherin fighting for Hogwarts now, a fact that wasn't lost on me. McGonagall herself questioned me when she spotted the fact I had returned to defend the castle. Needless to say, I convinced her enough.

"I wish you did not come back here…" Oleg said. "But I am not leaving you to fight alone."

I smiled slightly. "I appreciate that." Looking back over the courtyard, I saw that Professor McGonagall had used a Locomotion Charm to align a regiment of stone soldiers on the bridge. "I just never thought it would end this way."

"End?" Oleg looked hard at me. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that with how You-Know-Who—"

Oleg stopped me. "His name is Voldemort."

My eyes snapped to Oleg. Few dared to speak the Dark Lord's name so brazenly, especially since a jinx was placed where anyone who said the name would be accosted by Apparated Death Eaters instantly ever since the Ministry fell to him. No Death Eaters came this time, but there were likely many reasons for that. Apparation was blocked on Hogwarts grounds, and it was probably pointless for Death Eaters to swoop in now since an army of them was coming anyway. "Sorry, old habit," I said, although I did say back. "His name is actually Tom Riddle, in case you were wondering."

"I was not," Oleg said. Oleg was often blunt. "I know that he is powerful wizard, but we are also powerful wizards."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I said. I knew I was definitely not to be trifled with in regards to power and cunning, but I've never properly tested my mettle minus dispatching a few meddlesome Snatchers I've crossed paths with as I was on the run last year. "Anyway, I was saying that I didn't expect everything to come to a head here. Can you feel it?"

Oleg looked over the courtyard from where he stood. Still no sign of You-Know-Who and his followers. "Like everything is coming to moment?"

"That's about right," I said. "Life is going to be kind of strange after this, although ever since coming here, my life has been kind of strange."

Oleg smiled a bit at that. "You have told me some about it last time."

Nodding, I then said, "Has it really been three years already?"

"Yes…" Oleg said bluntly.

I smiled. "In retrospect, it's been about ten years since I've started here. I can still remember…"

"Are you wanting to talk about it?"

I looked at Oleg with a funny expression. "Do you think this is the time to talk about old memories?"

"Perhaps we might never have chance…"

My mouth fell open slightly at that. Oleg was just as concerned about the outcome of this battle as I was, and probably wanted to settle affairs just as much as I did. I was more or less mentally prepared for what was coming, but Oleg might not have had that much time. When he was here last time, we mainly talked about him and Durmstrang, but to my shock I didn't talk much about Hogwarts and my own experience with it. It just didn't really come up. "It's a bit of a story…"

"It is one I am wanting to hear."

I reached over and held his hand at that. "If you say so…"

XXXXXXXXXX

As I mentioned before, my father was a Hufflepuff and my mother was Ravenclaw. While I can't really tell you of their bloodlines, it was apparently enough for most critics that were rather vocal about "blood purity." My father worked in the Improper Use of Magic Office, while my mother was in Magical Law Enforcement. My parents generally didn't talk much about their work, although I do recall my father often complaining about his boss, one Dolores Umbridge. I didn't think much of it until I myself started as an intern in the Improper Use of Magic office. While my exposure to her was pleasantly short, the sheer sight of her was more unpleasant than any Divination or History of Magic class I ever had.

I'm getting ahead of myself. I was born while You-Know-Who was still around and powerful as ever. I was three when he met his unexpected downfall at the "hands" of an infant Harry Potter, so I don't remember much, although my mother and father still spoke of it once in a while. Despite the fact he was defeated, still no one spoke the name, and it wasn't until much later when I found out whom You-Know-Who was.

My father and mother were both wizards of course, but they would also teach me ways of a Muggle so that should something ever happen, I could pass for one, in the very least when I'm surrounded by Muggles. Father also said that it builds character, alongside calluses I suppose. My mother agreed mainly that it was smart to be multi-skilled. When my acceptance letter to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry came in the summer of 1988, I had already heard about Hogwarts because my father and mother had told me about it and that I would eventually go. My father once tried to teach me a few things about what I would learn, but my mother put a stop to that, mainly because it was better to learn in a more controlled setting, and that inside a house was not the place to be doing that.

So in the month I had to prepare, I was whisked away to Diagon Alley, where I soon met so many other children my age. What I was surprised to see was that their reactions to coming to such a place were far more varied. I espied that while some were as excited as me, others were more shell-shocked. I then noticed that some of the parents were just as shell-shocked, and I asked my mother why.

"They are probably Muggles, and the only reason they are here is that their son or daughter is a wizard," she said.

"I didn't know that could happen."

"Some would prefer that it wouldn't," my mother had said. "I say that on a more practical application of the magical arts, blood status doesn't matter. It takes skill, education and perhaps a little talent. I would advise you to remember that, Ewan."

It was a lesson I would never forget. We didn't speak much of anything else honestly as the rest of our time was devoted to picking up everything we needed for my first year, and even got a long-eared owl of my own. I affectionately named it "Illuminati" because it seemed to be always seeing something, although I usually refer to him as "Lumi". The final piece we picked up was my wand: an eleven-and-three-quarter-inch yew wood with a dragon heartstring core, carved with a lighter-tan shaft with a darker-finished twisted grip. Mr. Ollivander gave me a funny look when he saw the wand select me, but he chose to say nothing. I was thankful because before the final wand selected me, I had accidentally set fire to his desk trying out a different wand.

The rest of summer dragged on as my mind was occupied with my first year at Hogwarts, which was coming that September. Hogwarts had already been in the Daily Prophet for the Cursed Vaults business that I knew nothing about. I hoped that would clear up mostly before I arrived. I remember barely sleeping the night before on August 31st, partly because of needing to get up early to make the train and partly because of excitement. When the time finally came on September 1st, I was whisked to King's Cross and onto platform nine and three-quarters, and just in time as the Hogwarts Express leaves promptly at eleven. I sat among fellow first-years as we chatted about our apprehensions and excitements about Hogwarts. Before long, I had changed into my robes to get ready for the Sorting that would happen upon our arrival.

We arrived at Hogwarts after nightfall, and a massive man named Hagrid guided us to the boats. We crossed the loch towards a towering castle. Much like most of us in the boats, I was quite impressed. I was so entranced by the castle that I never noticed that all of us on the boats were first-years. When we arrived at the castle, we were herded towards the Great Hall of the castle, but we were stopped by a tall severe-looking woman in an emerald-green cloak and a pointed hat, whom I would later find out was Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House. She stood before us, and we all didn't dare speak as she did.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she started. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be Sorted into your houses." Her eyes quickly scoped over us as if looking for even the smallest amount of trouble. "The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room." Her eyes somehow settled on me briefly, and I instinctively held my breath. "The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will cost your House points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

Despite the urge to look around, I managed to keep my eyes fixed on Professor McGonagall. Somehow, I had the feeling that even not paying anything short of one's fullest attention was an infraction to her. I also had the feeling that my peers were feeling the same form in intimidation.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarted yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

I instinctively patted my sandy hair to see if it was presentable, and even redid my tie as I watched Professor McGonagall disappear into the Great Hall momentarily. I dared to breathe and look around and everyone else looked just as frazzled and self-conscious.

Professor McGonagall quickly returned. "Move along now; the Sorting Ceremony's about to start." She led us into the Great Hall, and I nearly tripped over the girl's robe that was in front of me. The Great Hall was lined with four long tables that stretched from one end to the other, stopping before a risen part where the head table stood. The four tables were already surrounded by students in the Hogwarts black robe, but the inner lining of each hood showed one of four colours—red, yellow, blue and green—and each colour assigned to a respective table. Thousands of candles hovered above all our heads, and I was startled to see that the ceiling was the night sky, or rather a bewitched depiction of the night sky.

I didn't have much time to take it all in as Professor McGonagall led us to a lone stool where sat a very large tattered pointed hat. "Wait here, please," Professor McGonagall said, turning briskly around, standing just beside the old hat. Unraveling a piece of parchment that she held in one hand, she addressed us again. "When I call your name, you will step forward, sit on this stool and I will place the Sorting Hat on your head to be sorted." She seemed to believe that was a sufficient enough explanation, and proceeded right to the first name: "Andrews, Susan!"

I saw the girl—whose robe I nearly tripped on—step forward timidly, sit on the chair shyly, and watched as Professor McGonagall rested the hat on her head. The hat was big enough that it nearly fell over her eyes, but it sat there momentarily. I began to wonder how it chose a house for us, when a tear near its base opened up and it shouted out, "HUFFLEPUFF!" startling me in the process.

I barely recovered enough to see the table with the yellow-lined cloaks cheer and clap for their newest inductee. I watched Susan walk towards the Hufflepuff table, looking a little more radiant than before. Before I could process it all, the next name was called.

"Aspey, Garrett!"

My eyes shot back to the Sorting Hat as a boy slightly bigger than I was take his seat on the stool. The hat was on his head, and it took a little longer to choose a house.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

This time, the red-lined cloaks cheered as Garrett took his place with them. As Professor McGonagall called up Devin Butler, I began to wonder what house I would be in. As I've said before, my father was in Hufflepuff and my mother was in Ravenclaw. My mother told me about the four houses briefly, and that each house stood for a virtue in retrospect: Gryffindors were valourous, Hufflepuffs were gracious, Ravenclaws were sagacious, and Slytherins were ambitious. My mother also told me that Slytherin had a reputation of being a breeding ground of dark wizards, although the truth was opaquer than tendencies claimed. Dark wizards came from all houses, but none but Slytherin admitted it. I wasn't sure if that implied that Slytherin was proud of that legacy, or that Slytherin saw no shame in the truth.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

My attention was brought back to the Sorting as another boy made his way to the Gryffindor table, although part of my mind was devoted to wondering what house I'd be in. I didn't really see myself fitting in any house. Would that be a problem?

Two more were sorted in front of me: one into Slytherin and the other into Ravenclaw. I couldn't help but see a strange sort of pride beam from the girl that was sorted into Slytherin. Before I could process that, Professor McGonagall called another name.

"Colquhoun, Ewan!"

I stood erect as if I was called to attention at first, but remembered where I was. I slowly came forward and sat on the stood. Before I could even think, the hat's brim settled over my eyes. I had expected silence until the hat made a choice, but that was not the case.

" _Hmm, this one may prove to be quite the challenge to choose."_ I looked around to find the source of the voice, and it was then I realized it was in my head. _"Surprised, little one? You're hardly the first. Countless young witches and wizards I have sorted, and you're just another one. Don't fret and don't touch my rims, if you please."_

I obeyed in silence.

" _So, I can tell you're quite a brave soul, but also humble, yet you want to be the best you can be, while having the insight to exercise discretion. Quite the conundrum…hmm…"_

I listened to the hat continually mill around choice after choice for quite some time, and I was wondering how much longer it would be.

Finally, he seemed to settle on one: " _Well, I think I've got it. Let's make it…_ SLYTHERIN!"

That was definitely not the choice I had expected, and even as the hat was removed from my head, and the table with the green-lined cloaked youths cheered for my admittance, I sat frozen for a little while. It wasn't until I managed to catch a glance at Professor McGonagall silently commanding me to take my place at Slytherin table. When I reached there, the head boy of Slytherin shook my hand, telling me "Welcome to Slytherin House."

I silently nodded as I heard someone by the name of Cedric Diggory be placed in Hufflepuff. Eventually, the rest of the first-years were sorted. In the end, another five were sorted into Slytherin with me, while the rest were more evenly spread out among Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. I asked the Head Boy, "Is it usual for Slytherin to get the least amount of new students?"

He looked at me strangely. "For as long as I've been here, kind of. I'm guessing people are too afraid of us after You-Know-Who. Or maybe people are too afraid of themselves that they think they'll be seduced by Death Eaters. I say that if you're too afraid to be who you are, you have no business being in Hogwarts period," he spat.

Before I could properly process that, Professor McGonagall called all of us to attention. "May I have your attention, please?!" she commanded, tapping a fork against her chalice. "Professor Dumbledore has a few start-of-term announcements to make!"

A wizened old wizard that sat in the largest seat at the staff table stood up. "Welcome to Hogwarts, first years, and to all of our current students, welcome back! I just have a few words to say before we become too befuddled by our feast. The Dark Forest at the edge of the grounds is forbidden to all students. In addition, I would like to welcome to our staff to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, Professor Laurie!"

As the professor mentioned stood up and made a short bow, I felt a small tap on the shoulder. I looked to see the school prefect point me towards another Professor, who strangely looked cross at the announcement. "Who is he?"

"That's the head of our house, Professor Snape. He also teaches Potions, but he's been vying for the Defence Against the Dark Arts spot ever since he came, but Dumbledore has always turned him down." I could hear a slight edge of bitterness in each syllable as the prefect spoke. "Each Dark Arts teacher has always quit his post for one reason or another for years. Dumbledore needs to wake up and see that at least Professor Snape would last more than a year."

I wasn't sure which was worse: the head of my own house could let his bitterness show so well, or that a tenure for a Defence Against the Dark Arts class teacher is predictably short.

As everyone settled in, Professor Dumbledore peered at us through his half-moon glasses as he stood up, and looked quite merry. "Let the feast…begin." He opened his hands towards the tables.

At once, a large succulent feast appeared right in front of us. I looked at it, completely marveled. Was it here the whole time, or did he really summon it all out of thin air, and which do I devour first? Two of the questions went unanswered, but I allowed instinct to guide me to the answer for the third.

I ate my fill tonight to be sure, but I also took time to take in the events of the day, the most shocking of all to be my Sorting. Slytherin? My blood ran cold as that implication sank in. My father never spoke fondly of Slytherins as a lot within Slytherin viewed Hufflepuff as the most inferior, even over their intense rivalry with Gryffindor, especially since a sizeable amount of Hufflepuffs were of mixed blood origins. My mother spoke of them neutrally, but it was pretty clear that she saw them as too ambitious in their pursuit of power. I wonder what they would think when their only son was in Slytherin.

After the feast, we were whisked away to the dungeons in the lower floors of the castle. The prefect led us to a blank slate of wall that was definitely smelled of mold. He spoke a password "Genus" to the wall, and I watched as a square doorway formed within the stone. He led us in and I saw a dimly greenlit common room. The windows were dark, and I thought it was the night sky, but as I saw curious fish looking through the window at the green candlelight, I realized that we were under the lake.

"Welcome to the Slytherin Common Room. As you can see, we are under the Black Lake. If one waits enough, one can see the giant squid in the lake, as well as a few other interesting creatures." She composed herself briefly before continuing. "Now I'm sure you've all heard the rumors: we all love the Dark Arts, we're a bunch of Death Eaters, blah blah. The _truth_ is that while many wizards and witches that went bad did come from Slytherin, just as many others came from the other houses. They just don't admit it." She turned to a large motif of a serpent above the mantle. "Just like the serpent, Slytherin is just as misunderstood. Salazar Slytherin, our house's founder, has chosen each and every one of you because he saw the seeds of greatness within you. We aren't content until we win, and that's why we are winners of the House Cup three years in a row. Yes, we may be ambitious, and yes, we may resort to means outside the lines, but just like the snake, we are powerful, sleek and cunning.

"Now we may be alone sometimes in our pursuit to be the best, but you will find strength within Slytherin because we are all brothers and sisters. You can depend on a Slytherin to get something done, while Gryffindors rush in, Hufflepuffs are too meek and Ravenclaws rather debate about it. You want something done, ask a Slytherin. Even amongst us, you might think that your fellow Slytherin may not be all that special. That's a lie of the mind, and don't you forget it. If Salazar Slytherin chose you, you are destined to be great, and that's that.

"Now that we've been properly introduced to Slytherin's legacy, there are a few rules to remember: most of all is that no non-member of the House of Slytherin is permitted entry into the common room, nor must you relinquish your password to anyone not of Slytherin. Second, _do not_ ask the Bloody Baron on how he became bloody. Third, the password to the common room changes every two weeks, so exercise vigilance in remembering each new password, and do _not_ write them down anywhere."

The prefect motioned to a set of stairways that we had taken to get into the common room, but we saw two flanking doorways that led further downwards. "Boys dormitory is to the right, girls, the same on the left. You will find that all of your belongings you brought with you. Now off to bed; classes start tomorrow."

I followed the rest of my peers into the dormitories and when I came into my room, I found that a set of robes was awaiting me. These were quite similar to the clothes I had before the Sorting, only these were themed towards Slytherin House: a green-and-silver tie, green-lined robes with the Slytherin serpent crest, a scarf that was also green-and-silver and other essentials as a part of Slytherin house. As the others talked in hushed voices, I quietly organised my things into my chest, and changed into sleeping clothes, although I couldn't really think how I could sleep now. The anxiety I had ever since I was sorted into Slytherin was still strong as ever, mainly in regards to what would my parents think.

The next day, my anxiety was tempered by the distraction of the first day of classes. My first class was Transfiguration, and Professor McGonagall was predictably strict. Our first task was to transfigure pieces of straw into sewing needles. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't either get my silver strand of straw to be sharp, or my sharp pieces of straw to be silver. She gave us a lot of homework pretty much straightaway. Next was Charms with Professor Flitwick, which was more of what I expected my lessons would be: learning spells and performing them, and I dare say that I was pretty good at learning the Levitation Charm.

Soon enough, it was lunchtime in the Great Hall, and I could tell that a lot of first-years were looking overwhelmed already, even my fellow Slytherins. A third-year looked at me and said, "You think this is hard, it's going to get harder." That did little to assure me.

As I was working on a piece of beef pie, a flock of owls swooped in carrying the post. As they soared over the tabletops, they dropped off parcels, letters and Merlin-knows-what into the hands of expecting and not-so-expecting students. One of the latter was me, as an owl—one I recognised to be my parents'—dropped a rather unassuming letter. I was thankfully quick enough to catch it before it landed into some pudding. I had a suspicion on what was in it, so I opened it, dreading what was inside.

I pulled out a piece of paper, and recognised my Dad's handwriting, and read the contents to myself:

 _My dear Ewan,_

 _I want you to know that I am proud of you. You are my son, and I will always love you no matter what house you belong in. Remember what we've taught you and study hard; I know you will be a great wizard once you come of age. Be kind to your fellow students, even if some of them give you a hard time. Don't hesitate to write if you ever feel overwhelmed. Your mother is also quite proud of you._

I had to try really hard not to cry, which at eleven years old is difficult to do. I noticed the next paragraph had a more calligraphic handwriting, and I recognised it to be my mother's. My mother was a perfectionist through and through, and she even signed her name by hand with flawless cursive.

 _As your father has said, study hard. Your O.W.L.s may still be five years away, but that does not mean you are free to slack off. As I'm sure you have noticed, classes in witchcraft and wizardry are no laughing matter. You may be in Slytherin, but even your fellow students are in the same place you are. Help them, and they can help you. Don't hesitate to ask; there's no shame in asking for help. Shame is only for those who are too proud and fail._

 _Remember, your father and I both love you very much, Slytherin or not._

Anyone who didn't know my mother might have guessed that was a backhanded compliment, but behind it, my mother was in fact very proud of me. When she said "Slytherin or not," it was her way of saying she didn't care which house I was in. I felt much better about being in Slytherin if it meant my parents had my back.

The first few years of my time at Hogwarts was something of a blur at first. I did well in the first year, second year and third. I had my favourite classes, such as Charms, Astronomy and Potions, the last one surprised me though. Professor Snape taught that class, and he was as strict as Professor McGonagall, but meaner. If you prove your aptitude for Potions though, he at least tolerates you. He doesn't get impressed easily; more accurately, he doesn't get impressed at all. If he examines your potion, says nothing, then moves on to the next, you did a good job.

The classes I didn't like were History of Magic and the flying lessons, the latter I took in my first year. As it turns out, I get sick easily on a broom, and I had to apologise profusely for nearly drenching half the class with breakfast. History of Magic was just boring, and it didn't help that the teacher was the ghost of the professor that died in his sleep, but still was committed enough to keep teaching.

I ended up being ok with Transfigurations and Herbology, although plants in general have always mystified me. I often got quite discouraged in Transfigurations, yet strangely, Professor McGonagall was very encouraging to me as long as I paid attention and followed her instructions to the letter. By the third year, I started getting much better.

I wasn't sure how I felt about Defence Against the Dark Arts, mainly because each year, the class changed radically, for each year came a new teacher. The reasons were always different, but sure enough, no teacher lasted to come back the next year. There were rumors of a jinx on the position, but nobody knew how it was cast, who cast it and why it was cast.

As for my experience with the other houses, I learned pretty quickly that there were a lot of old wounds between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and that most of my house found Hufflepuff weak. We had lukewarm relations with Ravenclaw, but it was annoying to hear them talk about how smart they were. Then again, Slytherin's often boasted at how good we are at what we did, so I'm sure the feeling was mutual.

When I returned for the fourth year, things changed drastically. On September 1st, 1991, I had arrived at Hogwarts, not expecting much for my fourth year. As I sat at Slytherin table, I watched Professor McGonagall lead a fresh new set of first-years into the Great Hall. I didn't think anything of it honestly, and watched with mild disinterest as they were sorted. When a young girl named Bulstrode came in, I noticed how pudgy and vacuous she looked. I even turned to the Head Boy—a different boy than the one during my first year as the last one left the school last year after graduating naturally—and distastefully said "Our standards seem to be lowering."

He said nothing to me. As I attended Hogwarts, I was more or less tolerated by Slytherin as my attitude wasn't quite so boastful as most of my Slytherin brethren. Still, I actively helped Slytherin House win the House Cup for another three years, increasing our streak to six, so my loyalties were never questioned. For a while, I was annoyed that I was looked at as the "odd Slytherin," but after writing to my parents about what was going on, they encouraged me to be myself and to not bend to the will of others. My father even said that Hufflepuffs had a great strength, as it takes a lot of strength to be kind to one's enemies. My mother had said that the ultimate goal was my own, and that nothing could ever change that, so pursue it despite criticism.

Another trollish boy joined Slytherin, Crabbe by name, as well as another, Goyle, that looked like he was sour as a lemon as just a vacuous as the others. I shook my head; this year was going to be worse than ever because Slytherin was now accepting brats. I then watched a blond-haired boy be selected into Slytherin as the hat barely touched his head, Malfoy, I think. I briefly hoped that by such a quick choice, he'd be at least of decent caliber, but I was disappointed again to see that familiar entitled smug look. Another pure-blood child of a family with a superiority complex. At this rate, Slytherin would become a hive of rich boys and girls of no talent and all ego. Hopefully Professor Snape would scare them straight.

Another Slytherin girl was chosen Parkinson, and she too had that look. I had stopped clapping politely as she joined our table. The prefect looked at me harshly. "I suggest you curb those thoughts of yours. These first-years come from noble stock and represent the best of us wizards and witches, as do you, so I wouldn't be so full of yourself."

"You're telling me not to be full of myself? A Slytherin?" I whispered back. "You haven't learned a thing since I've been here; no one tells me what to do unless your name is Severus Snape, and you also don't have the merits to deduct house points from Slytherin so you'd be best to not threaten me with that."

He looked at me as if he tasted haggis for the first time, but I wasn't to be intimidated. While I nearly have crossed Professor Snape myself, I never pushed him to do something severely to me because I was such a good student. That being said, my attempts to never try his patience rivaled my studies themselves.

Suddenly, Professor McGonagall said a name none of us were expecting:

"Potter, Harry!"

The entire room went silent, minus a couple of hushed whispers, and every single eye in the place locked onto the boy that was taking his seat on the stool with the Sorting Hat waiting for him. _That_ was the Boy-Who-Lived? The boy that somehow took down the Dark Lord? The boy was hardly remarkable: untidy dark hair, gangly and even a little dingy as if he hadn't properly bathed. Yet here we all were, transfixed at the one who somehow took down He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named while just a baby. What did he do? Cry the Dark Lord to death?

The hat took its time as it considered where to put Harry Potter, and I felt a strange sense of kinship in Harry. It took the Hat some time to place me in Slytherin, and it seemed to be having the same conundrum. At one point, Harry looked like he was whispering to himself, which I found to be peculiar. What was he saying to himself? Didn't he know that the Sorting Hat was a Legilimens, that it read minds?

A few seconds later, the Hat made a decision: "GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor table blew up with elation and applause as Harry Potter joined them, while my table looked especially displeased. The famous Harry Potter was in my rival house. There will be no living with the Slytherins after this. Looking around at my table, not a single soul clapped for that Sorting, although a few seemed bitterer about it than most, particularly the younger ones…

…particularly the Malfoy boy.

I half-listened to Professor Dumbledore's typical before-term notices, with the added one that the third-floor corridor was off-limits to all students. I didn't bat an eye at that. Usually something is going on where students were banned from going somewhere. There was also the announcement that a Professor Quirrell was taking over the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. I looked at him and he seemed as jumpy as a first-year. Poor sod; he might not even make it to the end of the year.

Classes went fairly well so far this year, but when Hallowe'en feast arrived, things took a turn for the worse. A terrified Professor Quirrell ran in, screaming about a troll in the dungeons before falling into a dead faint. The entire Great Hall erupted into chaos before Dumbledore called for order and ordered everyone to return to their common rooms while the teachers would follow Dumbledore to the dungeons to deal with the troll. I didn't hear about what happened to the troll until the next day. Apparently, the troll left the dungeons, found its way into a girl's lavatory, and cornered a Gryffindor first-year while two other Gryffindor first-years, least of all Harry Potter himself, took it down. The grumbling I heard from my Slytherin comrades was annoying up until the first Quidditch match.

Before all of this even, somehow Potter became Gryffindor's new Seeker, and now it was his first Quidditch match, and it was against Slytherin. Somehow I knew this would be bad: Potter had been increasingly earning the animosity of my Slytherin brethren, including Professor Snape. Even before Potter came to Hogwarts, matches between Gryffindor and Slytherin were quite competitive, and Slytherin especially was, to say the least, ambitious to win.

When the day came, I watched from the Slytherin side of the bleachers as Gryffindor and Slytherin slugged each other in Quidditch, but to my alarm, Potter's broom went completely out of control and nearly bucked him right off. It was a spectacle to my peers, and I was growing agitated with how unsportsmanlike my house had become. For the first time, I regretted being in Slytherin. Thankfully, whatever jinx affected Potter's broom faded away; unfortunately, Potter was able to catch the Golden Snitch before our Seeker could, thus ending the game and giving Gryffindor the win. It also gave Gryffindor a real chance to beat us in the House Cup for the first time in seven years.

Nothing much else happened that year, although Potter and his circle of friends seemed to find themselves in the centre of everything, and finally, before the end of the year, they brazenly stormed the third floor corridor one night and in the end, Harry Potter faced Professor Quirrell—we had no idea he was a dark wizard and allied with You-Know-Who—and prevented him from getting the Philosopher's Stone, a powerful alchemical artifact that could restore anyone on the edge of dying to full vigorous life without repercussion amongst other things.

The end of the year came, and Slytherin was in the lead to take the House Cup for a seventh straight year, and Gryffindor somehow came dead last. At first, a seventh cup seemed inevitable, until Dumbledore made a few last minute additions. My table watched appalled as Dumbledore gave 170 points to Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, Harry Potter and finally Neville Longbottom, all of Gryffindor. It was just enough points to beat Slytherin. For one time in my life, I was annoyed at Professor Dumbledore, for practically giving away the House Cup, and for once in my life, I agreed with my Slytherin comrades: we were cheated.

I told my parents about what happened, and I wondered aloud if being around Slytherin had affected my outlook. My parents assured me that it was ok to feel mad about what seemed to be an unfair loss, but what I needed to do was focus on doing better next year, and remember to be secure in my own ambitions so that I may not lose focus during setbacks. I knew that if I needed to get through Hogwarts, I needed to keep my eye on the prize and not let a child prodigy distract me, especially for something in the end was useless to my objectives.

When I went back for my fifth year, I was focused on one thing: passing my O.W.L.'s. All students in their fifth year need to take standardized tests and evaluate what they want to do in life, normally by talking with their head of house. For me, that meant Professor Snape. Part of me dreaded that for two reasons: I hadn't decided what to do with my life as of yet, and I would have to discuss my future with him period. Upon arrival, I found out I have been made a Prefect of Slytherin House. Prefects are selected by the Head of House, so Snape chose me, although for reasons I knew not.

As I enjoyed the pre-term feast, I noticed that Professor Snape was absent from the staff table. That struck me as odd, since he usually scowls at the next choice for Defence Against the Dark Arts teaching. I recognised all of the faces at the table, minus one rather groomed to perfection wizard that smiled so much that his perfect teeth shined. I recognised him quickly: Gilderoy Lockhart, author of nearly half of the library I had to bring for this year's classes. I hated him at once: anyone who smiles that much is obviously lying about something.

It turns out I was right: "Professor" Lockhart was as proud as a hippogriff but didn't have the claws to back it up. Most of his lectures were self-narrated exploits from his books, and he even had the gall to quiz us on his books, which had next-to-nothing to do with _real_ defensive magic. I offhandedly wondered if there was a way to accelerate whatever-rumoured jinx to boot out Professor Lockhart far more quickly.

Professor Lockhart was strangely overshadowed by a plague of Petrification, which started a week into the term. The first one was the cat of Mr. Filch, the caretaker of the castle. It was even punctuated by a message drawn in blood:

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware."

We encountered the message when we were coming back from Hallowe'en Feast, and we saw Harry Potter with his two friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, standing in front of the message, looking around at us as if he put up the message himself.

Before I could even process its meaning, I heard someone shout. "'Enemies of the Heir, beware?'" He paused and then said. "You'll be next, Mudbloods."

It was Malfoy, and my annoyance at the proud gangly child grew ten-fold. I knew he had a superiority complex born from his father and mother, but to call Muggle-borns _Mudbloods_? He needed a good blast of the Tickling Curse until he couldn't breathe. It would make me feel better anyway. Too bad his father was a governor of the school, so he was practically untouchable, even from a fellow Slytherin.

After a second petrification—a first-year Gryffindor—Professor Lockhart thought it prudent to start a "dueling club"—the only good idea I would ever grant the peacock. We were in the Great Hall in mid-December for the first day, and Lockhart "demonstrated" how to disarm one's opponent with the Disarming Charm. I say that loosely, because truthfully, it was Professor Snape that demonstrated it quite succinctly…on Lockhart. The spell was so powerful that Lockhart was sent flying into the opposite wall, effectively causing him to drop his wand. After recovering, he boasted that he let Snape do that, and I didn't have to look at my Head of House to know that wasn't true at all.

We were then paired up to practise against each other. I was paired with a Ravenclaw, but we didn't get far when the hall descended into a complete bedlam. Some students even went medieval with their battles before Snape blasted the room with the General-Counter Spell, wiping away all enchantments from the room. After order was reinstated, it was decided to properly demonstrate the Shield Charm to deflect unfriendly spells. Strangely but unsurprisingly enough, Professor Lockhart failed to teach us how to use the Shield Charm itself since he didn't know it. Thankfully, I knew it myself; being a well-studied fifth-year had its perks.

What was surprising was that Potter and Malfoy were paired together once again to duel for the demonstration at the suggestion of Professor Snape. Having been at Hogwarts for the past couple of years, I knew that Professor Snape had something of a chip on his shoulder against Potter for unknown reasons, and while I was never around to see it, it was something gossiped about. Pairing Potter up against his rival, Malfoy, was to say quite a forward admission of his disdain for Potter. For once, I pitied Potter. Malfoy may be a lot of talk, but he had more skill than Lockhart had in his pretentious hair.

The duel had quite the exchange, but neither person used the actual Disarming Charm. Then, Malfoy summoned a snake which caused Potter to falter. Snape stepped forward to deal with it, but Lockhart beat him to it. The spell he used only lifted the snake off the ground and then dropped him. The understandably-now-furious serpent was about to take its anger out on a nearby Hufflepuff, when the unthinkable happened. Potter strode forward, and was speaking to the snake in the strangest language any human ear could ever hear, but those of us in the magical world knew what it was: Parseltongue, the language of snakes. Potter was a Parselmouth!

While everyone was still shaken by the revelation, Snape banished the snake and immediately adjourned the club. All of us filed out of the room, and my mind was still stalled at what I had witnessed. Parseltongue was a trait so uncommon that it was easily traced back to one person: Salazar Slytherin, the founder of my house! My mind immediately got to work. Parseltongue was something thought that only descendants of Slytherin would have, and the first message from the so-called Heir of Slytherin earlier this year spoke that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened. Logically, that would suggest that the Heir of Slytherin could also have his traits, something that not just any descendent of Salazar Slytherin would have. What better trait than Parseltongue? Salazar Slytherin was rather outspoken about his preference against Muggle-born witches and wizards for attendance at Hogwarts, so logically, the Heir of Slytherin would target Muggle-borns. The first human victim was a Muggle-borns as well, but perhaps that was coincidence.

One day later, a Hufflepuff second-year was found Petrified alongside the floating still form of Sir Nicholas, the Gryffindor Ghost. Somehow, whoever or whatever Petrified the second-year was strong enough to harm a ghost! Moreover, I learned that day that the same second-year was another Muggle-born. That was two Muggle-borns now; the case of Potter as the Heir of Slytherin seems to strengthen, especially since it was Potter that "found" them. Rather, it was Filch that found Potter standing over them. Dumbledore apparently didn't suspect Potter as he was allowed unabated to classes.

I then thought about Potter himself: he was from Gryffindor House, and his father and mother were also of Gryffindor. While I didn't know the complete history of Slytherin's descendants and their Sorting places, it was difficult to assume that the Heir of Slytherin would not be in Slytherin House. Moreover, he also had no reason to attack Muggle-borns, because one of his own friends was one. The more I thought about it, the less it made sense. The only thing tying Potter to the suspicion he was the Heir of Slytherin was his ability to speak Parseltongue. Everything else didn't add up. Still, the very fact he _could_ speak Parseltongue was something one couldn't overlook. Salazar possibly has countless descendants; it wasn't completely ruled out that he could be. The only thing that was convincing me that he wasn't was that he wouldn't attack his own friend since his Sorting.

My mind was still trying to unravel the mystery surrounding Potter and the Heir of Slytherin, even while I sat at a table in the Slytherin with my Potions homework in front of me. If I could only find the genealogies of the wizarding families and find common names between them, I could probably track down a potential candidate to the Heir of Slytherin. The name "Slytherin" had died out ages ago. No one I knew had that surname, or the other House names for that matter. In the wizarding world, there were still some names of esteem, mostly among the "purebloods," but not all that many popped to my mind among those here at school, minus Malfoy. I had heard about the Black's, but that line was practically extinguished after the First Wizarding War due to their participation with You-Know-Who.

I had little time to dwell on things due to my upcoming O.W.L.'s, but that didn't stop how bad the year would be. Throughout the year, more Petrifications occurred. and it took too long for Professor Sprout to grow the Mandrakes to make the antidote. The final straw was when Miss Granger herself was petrified alongside a fifth-year Ravenclaw, which cancelled Quidditch matches for the rest of the year, and rumors grew that Hogwarts would close. My earlier suspicions of Potter returned, but again, would he really attack his best friend? Was he even doing it willingly?

Despite the uncertainty, I _did_ eventually sit down with Professor Snape about my future in the spring. He had me come into the Potions classroom in the dungeons. As I entered, he didn't move from behind his desk. "Sit."

I obeyed at once, and even sat up straight. Professor Snape was the kind of man that could notice anything, and he wouldn't be loath to mention it.

Briskly, he folded his hands together and rested them on the desk. "Now, Mr. Colquhoun. I will get straight to the point." His dark eyes seemed like they could see right through me, and that was something I never could get used to despite being in his house for five years. "Your performance in this school speaks for itself, therefore I won't dwell on it. What doesn't speak for itself is what you plan to do with your education."

Truthfully, I've continually found myself being distracted by everything that's been happening at the school lately on top studying for my O.W.L.'s, so that my future has had little time to be considered at all. My mind raced for the right answer.

"No answer?" Snape said with a slight touch of scorn. "Don't disappoint me, Mr. Colquhoun."

Disappointment; one of the things I've feared the most, particularly from my parents. I never wanted to be a disappointment, so I constantly pushed forward without knowing where I was going. I just made it up as I went along, because that's what I thought I needed to do until I found what I was looking for. Perhaps that's what I need to say.

"I do not seek to be a disappointment ever, Professor, but truth be told, I do not know what I plan to do with my life."

Professor Snape didn't move and stayed silent. I continued. "But I do know this: whatever I plan to do, I will achieve it. Far be it from me to state the obvious, but I'm from Slytherin house, and we like to forge our own path to greatness, something bending the rules a bit and earning the scrutiny of our peers and superiors. We get what we need because we push for it, and I plan to do that for whatever I seek, because I don't care what people think of me."

Snape still didn't move, and I was done talking. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, his stone face cracked slightly. "So be it." He stood up so fast that I thought he would flip the desk, but his movements are so fluid that it's almost serpentine. Looming over me, he continued, "Then allow me to give you one word of advice, Mr. Colquhoun: if you are so resolute as to excel in whatever pursuit you take, then you will need to get an Outstanding in your Potions examination, because I will not accept any N.E.W.T. student that does not. However else you perform on your other O.W.L.'s is of no concern to me. You're dismissed."

"Thank you, Professor," I said, and I rose, though not nearly so fluidly, and left the classroom, thankful I didn't wet myself the entire time.

My O.W.L.'s were held before any of the other examinations held at Hogwarts, despite fears of school closure. Whatever may happen to this school, I would see to it that I would succeed and so I dove into the O.W.L.'s with all of the courage I could muster.

I half-expected to go straight into my normal examinations right afterwards, but this was all overshadowed by Dumbledore being suspended as headmaster of the school, and later the same month, a young first-year Gryffindor was taken by the monster into the fabled Chamber of Secrets. That seemed to guarantee school closure, until Harry Potter pulled through again and killed the monster in the Chamber itself, saving the first-year and earning the Special Award for Services to the School, along with Ron Weasley. At around the same time, Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey had finished the Mandrake Restorative Draught and had administered it successfully to the Petrified students, Sir Nicholas and Mr. Filch's cat. Dumbledore, having been restored to headmaster rather quickly, cancelled all exams as a result. I have to say that I was just as elated as everyone else—minus Miss Granger apparently—because it was one less thing I needed to get done.

That summer, I received the results of my O.W.L.'s, and thankfully, I did not disappoint anyone, although my mother thought I could have done better in a few other subjects:

Charms: Outstanding  
Transfigurations: Exceeds Expectations  
Herbology: Acceptable  
Defence Against the Dark Arts: Exceeds Expectations  
Ancient Runes: Exceeds Expectations  
Potions: Outstanding  
Care of Magical Creatures: Acceptable  
Astronomy: Outstanding  
Divination: Dreadful  
Arithmancy: Acceptable  
History of Magic: Poor

I wasn't surprised at all about Divination or History of Magic. Nothing made any sense in the former, and the last one was more boring than a weevil. I thought I did better in Arithmancy though.

My sixth year was to be dominated by my N.E.W.T. courses, the ones only they who passed their O.W.L.'s with passable grades—often to the discretion of the teacher—and thankfully, I wouldn't have to endure the eternal disappointment of Professor Snape for not getting into N.E.W.T.-level Potions. Over the summer, I learned that a mass murderer had escaped the wizards' prison for reasons unknown, but what was scarier still was that an escape from Azkaban has never happened before. One even infiltrated the train, and seeing one up close is something I'd rather not repeat.

When we arrived at the school, we could see the wispy wraiths from afar, surrounding the castle and the very air had a chill despite the summer weather, rain be damned.

Our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was a rather pale haggard-looking man named Remus Lupin, and I noted that Professor Snape this time around was _especially_ bitter. Despite the new professor's delicate appearance, he proved to be an outstanding teacher in the class. For one time in my life, I did outstanding in this class, and it was fitting that we had to learn about the dementors themselves as part of our curriculum, as well as the charm needed to dissuade them: the Patronus Charm. That proved to be a challenge in itself; most managed only shield-varieties. Professor Lupin didn't seem bothered that I was a Slytherin despite the general behaviour of my fellow Slytherins in the class, and because I wouldn't give up, I finally managed to produce a full-body Patronus, and to my surprise, it turned out to be a buzzard, although most thought it was a hawk. They do look similar admittedly.

Compared to the last two years, this year was far less eventful, although I did have to endure Malfoy's overdramatic display of an arm injury he got when he was so foolish enough to insult a hippogriff during Care of Magical Creatures. What made it all worse was that the younger Slytherins drank it all in, but I wasn't to be fooled. Malfoy even tried to butter up to me to do his schoolwork while I was studying for an Alchemy exam, and I gave him one steely look and said, "I'll be sure to put it somewhere on the tasks I have to do, perhaps after my parchments on _Felix Felicis_ , but then again perhaps I should prioritize my report on Inferi, but I really do need to finish my star charts as well. I can't remember if I placed Arcturus in the right spot, let alone which end of Orion Rigel and Betelgeuse go. There's also the—I thought as much." By then, Malfoy had thought someone else was far more worth his time since I was deliberately wasting it.

While I had a relatively uneventful year, the Gryffindors weren't so peaceful. At one point apparently, Sirius Black, the escapee from Azkaban, had attempted a violent break-in to the Gryffindor common room, but failed. Harry Potter himself seemed to be at the mercy of the dementors as he seemed to attract their attention during a Quidditch match. Despite the misfortunes that befell Gryffindor, they managed to stay focused enough to not only win the Inter-House Quidditch Cup this time around, but also managed to win the House Cup for a third year in a row. To say my house was annoyed would be like calling Rubeus Hagrid tall. Still, it was a nice break from the last two years of chaotic terms.

It wasn't until my seventh year when my life changed forever.

XXXXXXXXXX

My seventh and final year came, and the biggest news coming in was the Death Eater attack at the Quidditch World Cup, and for once, my parents were nervous about me coming back to school. The Death Eaters were former followers of You-Know-Who before he fell. To hear of them coming back along with a conjured Dark Mark was to say the least disturbing. I wasn't about to let any Dark Wizard keep me from finishing what I started, so I was determined to go back. Plus, I was now of age so I was old enough to make my own decisions.

When I arrived at Hogwarts, we got swept up already into an event called the Triwizard Tournament, which was to be held here despite the fact it hadn't been held anywhere in over 200 years due to its high casualty rate. I could only assume restrictions were put into place to prevent that from happening again. School proceeded as normal up until the night before Hallowe'en, when the two other competing schools showed up. Before supper feast, Dumbledore first introduced us to the ladies of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. When the Beauxbatons ladies strutted in, a lot of the school—mostly the masculine side—were rather transfixed as they came in. I wasn't quite so hormonal, but my eyes did catch their headmistress, Madame Maxime. She was taller than Hagrid even.

Once they were introduced and seated, Dumbledore then introduced the "proud sons" of Durmstrang, and they marched in like an army regiment, dressed in dark furs with red lining. Trailing the men was another Durmstrang lad, particularly strong looking, followed by a man who looked like the Russian version of Professor Snape.

The Durmstrang men were seated with the Slytherins, and that's when I first met Oleg. There was something about him that struck me as especially different than anyone else, and Oleg himself seemed to feel the same way about me. As it turns out, he along with the eleven other Durmstrang men were all chosen by his headmaster Igor Karkaroff as candidates for the Triwizard Tournament.

Before we learned the terms of the Triwizard Tournament, the sky-depicted ceiling went absolutely mad, but it was calmed by a newcomer that came in a back door. From the look of him, it looks like he was chewed up by a dragon and spat back out. As it turns out, it was our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, since, as normal, the last one didn't last a year because someone blabbed that he was a werewolf. Shame that; he was a great teacher. This one was a retired Auror, Alastor Moody. I wondered if he'd last this time. Despite him being half of a man, his eyes—er—eye was still ablaze, so there was a drive to be sure.

Over the next day, anyone over the age of seventeen—and a few unfortunates that weren't that learned not to cheat the hard way—put their name forward into the Goblet of Fire to apply to compete in the tournament. Along with other Slytherins of age, I was encouraged to put my name in, but I wouldn't. I had no desire to earn eternal glory by risking my neck in a tournament. As it turned out, Oleg felt the same way, but he _did_ put his name into the Goblet as that was why he was brought along with the other Durmstrang men.

In the end, it didn't matter: the Durmstrang champion was to be Viktor Krum and the Hogwarts champion was Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff. There was definitely some murmurs of discontent from my Slytherin brothers and sisters. I was sitting next to Oleg—it's amazing how fast one can become friends—while the champions were called. Oleg was more or less relieved when Viktor was chosen instead of him. I was glad too honestly, and I had to wonder why I was suddenly so invested in someone else's health. For the six previous years I've been here, I never had this kind of a friendship with anyone.

Before any of us knew it, the Goblet of Fire intensified, grabbing the attention of everyone, even more so Professor Dumbledore. Suddenly, the Goblet spat out another piece of paper. Dumbledore snatched it out of the air, took a quick second to look at it, cleared his throat and said, "Harry Potter."

The Great Hall was deafeningly silent, and all of us turned to look at the Boy-Who-Lived, who looked very stunned and uncomfortable. Despite his discomfort, none of us looked away from him. He looked at his friends, Ron and Hermione, hoping to find some ally in his stance, but they too were looking at him.

Dumbledore called for Potter again, and Hermione had to push him out of his seat. Potter was very slow to approach Dumbledore, who too stared hard at him. He motioned Harry to the door at the rear of the hall, and Harry silently left, every gaze following him. When he finally left, Dumbledore gathered up the teachers to confer. Oleg tapped me on the shoulder. "What happened?" he whispered.

"Your guess is as good as mine."

Before I could continue, Dumbledore spun around and looked hard at us. "Back to your dormitories, all of you!"

None of us dared to question that tone. All of us filed out of the Great Hall, and the Durmstrang students looked lost, wondering if they should go back to their ship. Oleg took the opportunity to pull me aside and ask. "What is going on?"

"I don't know, Oleg," I said. "The Goblet of Fire is _supposed_ to be nigh infallible when it comes to selecting contestants, or so I've heard."

"Do you think he cheated?"

"With Dumbledore's Age Line present the entire time? It didn't allow the Weasley Twins and their friend Lee, and they were older than he was. The only way his name would have gotten in there was if someone of age would have put it in there, but even then, the Goblet of Fire is intelligent enough to discern who that is. None of this makes sense. Even Dumbledore was disturbed by this. Something is very wrong here, and for the first time since I've come to this school, I'm worried."

"Of what?" He asked.

"I don't know yet, and that's the worst part. I hate not knowing."

That was no lie. Even after the near return of You-Know-Who during my fourth year that was thwarted by Potter, I refused to acknowledge that I would be worried about anything because that would be counterproductive to what I want to do, but with the return of the Death Eaters and the reappearance of the Dark Mark, I began to wonder if I should shift my focus to preparation.

I found my classes even more difficult because I had trouble concentrating, and the whole buzz about the Triwizard Tournament was deafening. My house was particularly noisy; they were disappointed that a _Hufflepuff_ was representing Hogwarts in the tournament, but that Potter himself was a _fourth_ Triwizard Champion was worse. As much as they were annoyed by the choice of Diggory, they were incensed at Potter's inclusion. Someone went out of their way to create badges that stated "Support Cedric Diggory – The Real Hogwarts Champion" while at a touch, they would morph into one that said "Potter Stinks" in bright green. Slytherin House wore them like it was dress code, and even Hufflepuff wore them with the same enthusiasm. I was one of the few that didn't wear one. While officially I was supportive of Cedric's pick over Harry's, I wasn't so juvenile to display it so crassly.

It was some time before the first task of the tournament, so while we were doing classes, we were also playing host to the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students. It was interesting to observe them hover around each other as they proceeded throughout the castle. No matter where they walked, they were always perfectly lined up and marching. Most of my Slytherin brethren were practically fawning over the Durmstrang students, and one in particular: Viktor Krum. Krum was also a star Seeker for the Bulgarian team in the World Cup. While his legendary flying skills did not win them the Cup this year, it did end the game on his terms. Sometimes I felt bad for Krum as he's constantly being followed by a crowd, and he looked annoyed by it; on the other hand, Krum was doing Oleg and me a favour because he was distracting everyone else from us.

I say us, because that's what it became. While everyone else was fawning over Krum—and to a lesser extent the Beauxbatons Champion Fleur Delacour—Oleg and I were almost always together when I wasn't in class. At one point, I was in the library, stuck between drafting my Astronomy parchments and my Potions parchment on wolfsbane draught, when he snuck up on me. I was so wrapped up in my studies that I didn't see him. He just sat down beside me. "There you are."

"Oh, hi," I blurted out, surprised. Madame Pince hissed her disapproval at my volume towards me and I complied. "What are you doing here?" I whispered.

"I was looking for you," he said.

It has been about three weeks since the Durmstrang students arrived, and a lot of that time was split for me between my schoolwork and company with Oleg. Three weeks doesn't sound like a lot, but as it turned out, neither of us had a lot of friends within our own schools, and when we first met back in late October, we just hit it off very well, and now, it seems things are picking up speed. I reflexively smiled, but wasn't sure why. "Oh yeah? What's going on?"

Oleg folded his hands in front of him and looked a little uncomfortable. "I am wondering if you can help me with something."

I closed my Advanced Potion Making book at once. "What is it?"

Oleg looked around, as if the entire library was watching him. "Not here. Can you meet me near lake shore, across from ship?"

I found that request odd, but I trusted Oleg enough to comply. "Oh, when?"

"Before sundown. Please, it will mean lots to me."

I nodded. "Ok, I will. Are you all right?"

He seemed to falter a little bit. "I-I will."

Now I was really concerned, but thought better to say anything. "Ok, I'll meet you there."

He seemed happier after that. " _Spasibo bol'shoye_."

While I knew very little Russian personally, he shared with me that it meant "thank you." He then left the library, but not before passing by Viktor Krum. That was almost as strange as Oleg's request: what would Viktor Krum be doing in the library? If it was to get away from his ever-shadowing fanbase, it wasn't working. In fact, this seemed to only add to the bustle always following him as everyone else had noticed that he was in here. All expect Miss Granger who was studying who-knew-what with Potter. As a matter of fact, Viktor Krum seemed unnerved, quite uncharacteristic to his athletic fearlessness. Whatever was unnerving him, he left almost as quickly as he came. I made a mental note to ask Oleg about that later.

I made it through my classes without the nagging question about Oleg's behaviour getting too noisy, but I managed to slip away before supper feast because the sun was setting earlier now it was after October. I made my way to the shore line of the Black Lake, and found Oleg staring rather apprehensively at the giant squid's tentacles basking on the lakeside.

"Don't worry," I said. He turned as I approached. "The squid does that. He actually is quite helpful, and he likes to have his tentacles tickled." To demonstrate, I took my quill pen out of my satchel and used the feather end to tickle on of the suction cups on one of its tentacles.

The squid quickly wrapped a tentacle around my ankle and pulled me right off my feet.

"Ewan!" exclaimed Oleg, but he needn't have worried. The squid didn't drag me into the water. Instead, it released my ankle, and then proceeded to return the favour. One of the few things I would ever admit is that I'm ticklish, and the squid found that out. Between fits of laughter, I finally said. "Okay, okay! You win!"

The squid relented its tickling assault, brushed the rear side of its tentacle across my face and then retreated into the water. I picked myself up and dusted myself off. "See? No harm done, except my pride."

Oleg was still unsure about what he just saw, but seemed to relax. "When Viktor said there was squid in lake, I was thinking he lied."

"No lie there," I said. "Well, I'm here."

"You are." Oleg seemed to get unnerved but had enough strength to ask. "I need your help with some spells, or rather resisting them."

This seemed very similar to my Defence Against the Dark Arts classes this year and last, where we had to learn about the Unforgiveable Curses and how to counter them, or rather counter two of them, as the third was known to be absolute. "What do you mean?"

Oleg looked at the ship sitting in the lake. "Do you know a place where we can do this in secret?"

Whatever he was asking, it was important enough to keep to himself and me, but I suddenly had a bad feeling about all of this. I couldn't let that show, because our friendship was too new for me to start doubting now. "Well…there is one place: the Shrieking Shack, but that's off the grounds, towards Hogsmeade. With the tournament going on, security is too strong to risk sneaking out…but there's one possible way, but are you sure about this?"

Oleg nodded. "I am."

Something about him always made me feel like I could believe him, which is quite remarkable for me. I've been in Slytherin for over six years, and despite the initial speech by the prefect in my first year, I couldn't grow to trust my fellow Slytherins completely, especially after Potter came to school. Trust in someone from Durmstrang that I've only known for a few weeks for me was remarkable. I couldn't help but trust him. "Follow me then."

I led him towards a lone willow tree on the school ground. Unlike the more…willowy willows closer to the lakeside, this willow had incredibly large branches and trunk. "This is the Whomping Willow, a tree that to say the least is territorial." There were no trees nor creatures around it. "If you get too close to it, it tries to squash you. At the trunk of the tree though, there's a passageway that can take us to the Shrieking Shack. I found out about it last year from Professor Snape after the whole Azkaban mess."

As we ventured close, the Whomping Willow seemed to awaken and lifted a branch to squash us. I rose my wand at it, flicked it twice and swished it. " _Immobulus_!" The Whomping Willow froze in place, its finer branches swaying slightly from the interrupted movement.

I turned to Oleg. "That won't keep it still for long. Come on."

I sprinted towards the base of the tree, and found the large hole underneath the tree. I quickly clambered down into it, followed by Oleg. "Why is this here?" he asked.

"I don't know, but I'll take what I can get."

We followed the dark tunnel until we came upon a staircase. Climbing it, I opened a latch and we ended up in a cellar. We could hear the wind rustling through the house as we climbed up to the upper levels. We eventually found an old bedroom where the chilled wind wasn't nearly so bad. I tried to close the door, but it was a hopeless venture.

"Ok, we're here," I said, turning to Oleg, who looked now even more uncomfortable. In fact, he looked like he could throw up. Now I knew something was wrong. "What's going on?"

Oleg swallowed, and then said. "Ever since the Death Eaters have come back, I have been being uncomfortable. My par—" I glimpsed a little wetness in his eyes. "My parents were tortured and killed by Death Eaters when I was baby. I was raised by uncle. I was thinking they were gone for good, but…"

"But now that they're back…" I started. "You need to defend yourself?"

Oleg nodded.

"Do they not teach you to use defensive spells in Durmstrang?" I knew they had to have, but the question was automatic. "Shield Charms? Counterspells? All that?"

Oleg shook his head. "You do not understand. I need to _resist_ spells."

Now I was confused. What did he mean exactly? "What are you exactly asking to do?" As soon as I asked, I had a dreadful idea what it could be.

"I need—" He swallowed again. "I need you to use the Cruciatus Curse on me."

I dropped my satchel. Every part of my body was numb, and my eyes had to have been twice as large as before. Even my very mind was frozen. "You—what?" That was all I could manage.

He knew that I heard him, so he didn't repeat himself.

I found my tongue. "Do you even realize what you're asking?"

Oleg looked at me with a pleading expression. I was shaken to my core. He _did_ know what he was asking me to do. My mouth formed to make words, but initially didn't. I finally found one to say: "Why?"

Oleg looked like he knew he was asking the impossible. "I need to learn to resist it. I may not be able to use my wand sometimes, so I must be able to resist in other ways."

He was preparing. I related to that. "But I can't."

He walked up to me and took me by the hand. "Yes, you can. You have to."

I didn't move to make him let go, but I did put my free hand on his shoulder. "You don't understand. This isn't just a legality thing, which is a _big_ deal in its own right; the Cruciatus Curse isn't something one can just say a word and it happens. It comes from deep within, a pure and vile hatred of the thing you're torturing. I would have to hate you with every inch of my being to do that."

That was not entirely accurate what I said to him, but I had to express the impossibility of it. I would in the very least have to hate him, I have to mean it to inflict anyone with the Cruciatus Curse. That was something Professor Moody made it perfectly clear when he demonstrated it on a wingless wasp in our class.

"And if there's one thing I don't feel towards you, it's hate." I sighed almost tearfully. "I don't hate you at all, Oleg. Not one bit."

Oleg seemed touched, but then looked discouraged. "What do I do? I need to be ready."

I looked thoughtful. "There isn't much to be done about the Cruciatus Curse, but perhaps…"

"Perhaps what?"

"It's something I did last year with Professor Lupin, as part of our sixth-year courses. He used the Imperius Curse to see if we can shake ourselves out of it. It's not easy to be sure, but if one has the willpower to shake off someone using an Imperius Curse on him, perhaps it's strong enough to resist a Cruciatus Curse. In the very least, you're less likely to crack the truth. Your sanity on the other hand…"

I remembered hearing about a case of two Aurors who were captured and tortured by Death Eaters last time You-Know-Who was around, and while they never talked, they were tortured so much that they lost their minds. Even the strongest person mentally might not last under extended magical torture.

Oleg understood. "If we can at least increase my mental strength, I may have chance."

"It's possible, but again, the Imperius Curse is also Unforgiveable. If I do this, I run a chance to be thrown into Azkaban."

Oleg nodded. "I will not tell."

I shook my head. "It doesn't have to be _you_ that might betray us. If my wand is ever examined with the Reverse Spell, the caster will know I did it. You're also fortunate that I'm of age, so the Trace is no longer on me, even at Hogwarts, but there's still a risk. The Ministry of Magic is particularly crazy after the World Cup this year. Hell, I'm sure they don't like the fact that Professor Lupin even used the Imperius Curse on us just to see if we could shake it off last year. Professor Moody did it to us again this time around, as a 'review.'"

Oleg looked surprised. "You have been under Imperius Curse?"

"For a little while, yeah," I admitted. "It's incredibly distracting, and it's very difficult to shake it off. I'm not even sure if I managed. It's like you're in a room full of perfume, and you're just overwhelmed by the smell that you can't think and you can't move, and you're just dreamily watching as your body is being made to do this and that. At one point, I gained this little seed of awareness that I was in a dream, and that's when things got crazy. The next thing I knew, I found myself sprawled on the floor of the classroom when I questioned mentally to do a handstand. Apparently, I stopped myself halfway and just fell on my face instead. A few others were only marginally less embarrassing if they managed to resist."

Oleg understood. "Can you do it on me?"

Despite the fact that the risk of harm was less with the Imperius Curse, I still didn't feel right about using it on my best friend. "Are you absolutely sure you want me to do this? The Imperius Curse is still a very twisted hex. I have to assert my will on you and you have to fight back with all of your being. Do you understand?"

Oleg pursed his lips. "I am asking you as a friend; you must help me. I want to be stronger if the worst will happen."

I sighed. Oleg was stubborn, and that was something I could appreciate in him. "If you say so, but first things first." Looking around, I pulled out my wand from its place in my left sleeve and pointed it at the doorway we came in. " _Homenum Revelio_." Nothing happened. "Good. We're alone." I looked at Oleg. "The only preparation I have for you is to steel yourself. I'll start off softer for you to see if you can shake that off. If you can, then I'll try harder. Got it?"

He nodded.

I pointed my wand at his forehead. " _Imperio_."

A wisp of gold-and-green dust seemed to emanate from my wand, and dusted Oleg, who quickly took a rather vacuous look, almost like he was happily drunk. I hoped he still knew my warnings. "Jump."

He obediently jumped.

My mouth was getting dryer. "Turn around."

He did so without hesitation.

I grew despondent; he wasn't fighting it hard enough. "Raise your right leg."

There was a second of hesitation, but then he rose it up shakily. My eyes widened a bit. A delay? Maybe he's getting stronger in resisting. "Now the other one."

Oleg lowered the other leg, and more shakily rose the other. My heart sped up a bit. He might be doing it. I got an idea for my next request. "Tell me the location of the Durmstrang Institute."

Oleg opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He was doing it! Still, I had to push harder to test him. "Tell me the location of the Durmstrang Institute!" I said more forcefully.

He made something like a gargling sound, but he still didn't budge. I narrowed my eyes. "Tell me!" I yelled.

"NO!" he suddenly shouted. It was so startling that I lost focused and lowered my wand. The curse evaporated immediately, and life returned to his eyes. He shook himself out, and looked at me. He was breathing hard. "Where am I?"

"You're still here in the Shrieking Shack." I was breathing hard myself. Casting an Unforgiveable Curse takes a lot out of someone it seems. "You did it."

"I did?"

"Yeah. I demanded an answer from you and you refused to answer it. You really did it. Not bad for a first time. It still took at least four commands before you showed real resistance. If you can do it sooner, you'll be real effective."

Oleg nodded. "Then do it again."

I sighed. "Very well." I rose my wand again. " _Imperio._ "

Once again, that vacuous look was back. I wasted no time. "Jump three times."

He obediently did so. We kept at it for at least an hour, and I was growing quite fatigued. At some point, he began to lose ground in his progress. As soon as I saw it, I lifted the Imperius Curse under my own volition. He looked at me surprised. "What is wrong?"

"You're getting tired; your concentration is slipping. I can't keep doing this tonight on you."

"But—?

"We can resume later if we can find the time. The First Task is coming up and from what I hear, security is going to be tight with the massive amount of people coming in to watch the champions. Sneaking around, even back here, might be too risky. We may have to wait until after the First Task."

Oleg seemed to get a little down at that, but recovered. "Very well."

I couldn't help but feel for him; he was just trying to do what he believed he needed to do, and I related to that. With everything going on, I knew that I needed to be ready as well. "We'd better go. It's after dark, and if I get caught wandering the grounds at this time of night, it could be detention for me, especially as a school prefect."

Oleg nodded. "You are right. I am sorry…"

"Don't be," I said. "I'm glad I could help, however unnerving it was." I didn't say that I'd rather not use the Imperius Curse on my best friend ever again though.

We made our way through the tunnel back towards the base of the Whomping Willow, using the Wand-Lighting Charm so we could see. Once we reached the other end, I told Oleg to wait for me to immobilize the Whomping Willow tree. Once I did, I motioned for him to come out. We stepped out into the cold November air. "You'd better get back to your ship as soon as you can. I'll see you soon and then we can decide—oh bugger!"

I had nearly run into Professor Moody, who had been eyeing—literally—us and had been waiting for us to come back out. Oleg had also stopped in his tracks.

"What would you two boys be doing out here, eh? A Slytherin and a Durmstrang?"

I knew what he was insinuating, and he was also an ex-Auror with paranoid tendencies. "Professor I—"

He quickly whipped his wand out, and in a blink, he used the Disarming Charm on my wand, sending it flying away. Oleg's wand was out and ready, but Moody was faster. Using a Stunning Spell, Oleg found himself blown head over heels into the ground, unconscious. My eyes flashed with anger, but I bit my tongue as Moody refocused his wand at my head. "Now how about we see your last spells, eh? Or are you feeling talkative to tell me yourself?"

I paled instantly. If I lied, Moody would definitely use the Reverse Spell on my wand and wouldn't settle for just the most recent spell. If I told the truth, it was, to quote Moody himself, "a one-way ticket to Azkaban." There was no way out of this, and Moody seemed to know that. It was little wonder how he was among the best Aurors from the Ministry.

Finally, he aimed his wand at Oleg, but nothing happened. "Pick up your wand, Colquhoun," he commanded coldly. I obeyed immediately. "Now wake up your friend."

I gulped, and aimed my wand at Oleg's body. " _Rennervate._ "

Oleg's eyes opened, and he sat up. Shakily, he said. "W-what happened?"

I was about to answer, but Moody beat me to it. "Get back to your quarters, Mikhailov, or you'd rather I have a word with Karkaroff?"

Oleg looked a little pale at that threat, and he looked at me unsure what to do. I raised a hand at him assuringly. "I'll be all right," I said, a little shakily. Honestly, I was terrified.

Oleg didn't seem assured, but he looked at Moody briefly, and I saw a flash of anger in his eyes, daring Moody to hurt me or send me to Azkaban. He didn't say anything, but only picked up his wand and departed for the ship. I watched him go, and then turned back to Moody, and saw that his magical eye was shooting back and forth while his natural eye was locked on me. "To my office, Colquhoun."

He led me back his office in the back of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. It was a bit of a walk to get there, and I prayed to whatever forces in the universe out there that Professor Snape wasn't anywhere along our route. While he generally favoured our own house, he was not against due punishment to his own students if they were especially bad-behaving, and using an Unforgiveable Curse after hours likely ranked up there.

Finally we reached the office with thankfully little interruption. Even Peeves, the resident poltergeist didn't bother us as he was busy with other mischief around the castle. He sat down on a chair next to a rather opaque glass, and his Magical Eye seemed transfixed by it, constantly staring at it. His real eye though was more interested in me.

"Perhaps I wasn't clear enough in my lessons, but what the devil is unclear about a one-way ticket to Azkaban if you perform an Unforgiveable Curse, Colquhoun?!" He grew louder with each syllable, and I stood appropriately shaken, but I didn't say a word. While his face didn't change, I could tell he was hacked off. "Perhaps a little Veritaserum will loosen your tongue, or perhaps Snape alone getting it will—"

"Don't!" I exclaimed automatically.

Both eyes momentarily focused on me. "I thought so, so how about you tell me what by all hellfire has taken your senses to do it?!"

I had to sigh. This was it. "He asked me to."

His magical eye looked back at me again and lingered. "Being taught the Dark Arts at Durmstrang not enough for him?!"

"It's not that," I said, and I stopped to consider my words carefully. "After what happened at the World Cup, he wanted to train up his mental fortitude should the Death Eaters come back, and you know they will. He wants to make sure that he'd be able to resist the Imperius Curse in case the worst happens." I knew it wasn't prudent to mention that he first asked about the Cruciatus Curse. That wouldn't help anything. "So I just did the very same thing what we did in the classroom. Nothing else."

Moody's face twitched a bit in annoyance. "Is that what you learned from my class?! How to cast the curses?! Arrogant boy! You didn't stop to think that the Imperius Curse if handled improperly could turn a victim's stupid little brain into haggis, least of all yours?! Unforgiveable Curse be damned, Azkaban has a place for you just for turning someone braindead!"

I took the rebuke well enough. He wasn't wrong, but I had more confidence in my powers than that. "I kept it light on him," I said, trying not to get angry.

Moody stood up so quickly that he almost left his fake leg behind. "The Ministry isn't going to be so callus about how gentle you were, Colquhoun! Had you been any other dark wizard, I'd send you to _Azkaban myself_!"

I felt my blood turn to ice at that, especially after seeing the dementors first hand just last year, but something about his phrasing hung on my mind. "Had I been?" I said.

Moody looked at me square in the eye with both eyes, and I held my gaze. I didn't see the point of flinching. If I was going to Azkaban, I'd do it bravely. He growled. "You'd best thank whatever lets you sleep at night that I'm retired."

I finally blinked. Was that the closest Professor Moody has ever come to a joke?

"Now I _suggest_ that you march yourself back to your house before I decide that twenty points from Slytherin is _not enough!"_

I nodded.

" _Well?!_ "

I left at once.

The next day, I was back in the library doing my normal studies when Oleg approached me again. He seemed quite relieved that I was not in Azkaban, or in the very least, not in a bad way. He almost apologised right there and then for "getting me into trouble," but I hushed him up quickly. Library confessions are all right and all, but not if they could get one sent to Azkaban.

XXXXXXXXXX

The rest of the month was tense with expectation for the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament. Oleg and I spent as much time as we could together for whatever reason, and thankfully, no one minded us throughout the process, thinking that shoving their "POTTER STINKS" badges into the namesake's face was far more rewarding. We talked a lot about our own respective educations, and that's when he told me about how much Durmstrang teaches about the Dark Arts. I had told him about our own Dark Arts exposure, and had admitted that up until Professor Lupin last year, my exposure was spotty at best. Truthfully, I learned far more in the last two years than the first five years at Hogwarts combined.

The day of the First Task finally arrived, and I met Oleg near the Quidditch Field, so we could find our seats at the nearby stadium where the First Task was to be held. When we arrived, we found that the arena was a rocky landscape, but what drew our attention was a bluish-grey dragon, a Swedish Shortsnout, bound by a chain right in the middle of it. Oleg and I looked at each other, alarmed. The first task involved a dragon, and it was only the _first_ task. Oleg and I were suddenly very thankful that we either did not enter or weren't chosen by the Goblet of Fire.

We anxiously took out seats as the rest of the stadium filled. Professor Dumbledore told us the conditions of the task: the champions needed to retrieve a golden egg from the dragon's clutch of eggs as fast and as carefully as possible. More importantly, retrieving the egg was required to continue in the tournament.

" _Bozhe moi_ ," Oleg said.

"You said it," I replied. "This is insane. No reward is worth this…"

Before long, the task had begun. Cedric Diggory was the first to attempt the task, and we watched agonizingly as he tried to distract the dragon. At one point, he transfigured a rock into a dog, which seems to do the trick, but when he shot for the egg, the dragon refocused at him and just about seared his face off. After about fifteen minutes though, he managed to get the egg.

"That's one down…," I said casually.

"I wonder if Krum is next…," Oleg wondered aloud.

When the whistle blew, it was Fleur Delacour who came out to face down a green dragon, a Welsh Green. Somehow, she managed to lull the dragon to sleep and looked just about to get the egg without a hitch…until the dragon started to snore. To Fleur's credit, she managed to keep her composure as the dragon's snore set her garments on fire. Despite the setback, she got the egg in less time than it did Diggory.

The dragon was switched out again for a red burly one, and when the whistle blew, it was Viktor Krum. We both watched as the Durmstrang champion faced off fiercely against an equally fierce Chinese Fireball dragon. Viktor was far more direct; at one point, he blasted the dragon with a spell right into its eyes. The dragon thrashed about, in severe pain, trampling some of its own eggs as it did. Shortly afterwards, Krum got the egg.

Finally, it was Harry Potter's term, and to my alarm, the dragon was now a black dragon that seemed to have more horns than scales: a Hungarian Horntail, one of the deadliest dragons in the world. It was bad enough for Potter to be in the tournament, but to face one of the meanest magical creatures on the face of the earth? Not for the first time did I feel something was up this year, and Oleg noticed me looking thoughtful. Before he could ask, Potter somehow summoned his broom. Next thing we knew, there was a small shape zipping around the dragon like a sparrow challenging a hawk to a fight. Blasts of fire shot in every direction, but Potter paid it no more mind than any Bludger from his previous Quidditch matches.

Suddenly, the dragon swiped at Potter with its tail and it connected. Potter managed to stay aloft, but was now favouring his uninjured side. I held my breath; this could end very badly if Potter didn't produce that egg soon. Potter dipped back and forth, trying to lure the stubborn dragon from the nest, but it didn't seem eager to take the bait…that is, until it finally opened its black wings and rose after him. At once, Potter dove underneath the dragon's legs and swooped up the golden egg in record time. The crowd exploded in applause as Harry soared away from the enraged dragon. I found myself clapping along with them; Potter may be Gryffindor, but that was a marvelous display of skill. He would have made a great Slytherin.

The mood was a lot less enthusiastic in my house that night, for Potter survived being mauled by a dragon, and even tied for first place with Krum, seemingly Slytherin's choice of winner. That irritated much of my house to no end, particularly young Malfoy, who had bragged about a bet with his own father. Apparently, neither of them bet on Harry lasting in the First Task. I had to keep my amusement to myself; Malfoy was a soul no man should ever have to endure. Malfoy in a foul mood was even worse.

Nothing much else happened as November turned into December, until one day we were sitting in Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall had announced towards the end of the period that there was to be something called the Yule Ball, a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament on Christmas Night. While she spoke mainly to the Gryffindors, being she was the head of their house, she _did_ strongly infer that she expected all of us to put our best foot forward, and she meant that literally. Only students in their fourth year and older were allowed to attend, unless a qualifying student invited a younger one.

Before this year, I had thought to go home for the holidays one last time before setting out on my own life, but the Triwizard Tournament changed that in more than one way. One thing that was required upon arrival was a set of dress robes, which I found to be odd. It wasn't until McGonagall's announcement that the purpose was made clear, so in a sense I was already prepared, except for one crucial detail: a partner.

Anyone who has known me throughout my tenure at Hogwarts can't ever say that I ever got close to a girl, or anyone else for that matter. I was often ridiculed for my chosen seclusion, but my grades spoke for themselves. As a matter of fact, the only person I've ever grown close to in my entire time here was Oleg, which created a slight problem: him being a man, and I also a man, obviously. Normally I'm not conscious about such things, but even in the Muggle World is a man taking a man to a dance not something one casually hears about. The sheer ludicrous nature of me asking Oleg to the dance made me dismiss the idea of going to the dance. No one would really miss me there…would they?

Later that day, I found my mind completely swimming in indecision. I had called the idea of taking Oleg to the ball a ludicrous idea for many reasons: it wouldn't be allowed, I'd stick out like a sore thumb, and he's just a friend. Then again, even great friends don't sit with each other nearly as much as we have as of late. If gender isn't a problem, then it could happen…

I shook myself. What was I even thinking? This wasn't some romp; this is a formal dance, which is far more intimate. If I was going to take Oleg to the dance, it would mean because this was more than friendship. For a second, I thought that would frighten me, but instead of that ice-cold feeling, I felt a strange rush of excitement mixed with the foreboding feeling of disappointment of the inevitable. It took me a while to break it down: I was excited with the prospect of taking him to the Ball, while dreading that I wouldn't be allowed to.

As the days progressed towards Christmas Eve, my resolution to not go to the Yule Ball wavered. I couldn't even fathom going with anyone else but Oleg, and I had run out of excuses to not pursue it further. It was the middle of December, and after I had gotten done with Transfigurations, I finally decided to ask Professor McGonagall as the rest of the class filed out. "Professor?"

Professor McGonagall looked at me neutrally. "Yes, Mr. Colquhoun?"

I tried to maintain the steely nerve that I've always had for the last six-and-a-half years since I've come to Hogwarts as I asked, "I have a question for you."

"Well, I would assume that's why you are choosing to speak with me."

I mentally kicked myself for that. "Right, well, I was asking about the Yule Ball." I swallowed; my mouth had gone dry. "There's no…regulation in regards whom to ask for the Yule Ball dance beyond their age, is there?"

Professor McGonagall looked at me a little more sharply. "What do you mean, Mr. Colquhoun?"

My first impulse was to either a tactical retreat or curse the Professor out. I suppressed both as neither was particularly good for me. "I mean, there's nothing keeping me from asking anyone to the dance within reason, right?" I paused and considered my next words. "Regardless of which school they're from?"

I hoped that was enough to give Professor McGonagall without giving my true inner turmoil, although I knew better than to pull a fast one against her. She was just as observant as Professor Snape at times. Finally, after what seemed like more time than a Hatstall, she said. "I would have figured that you were more perceptive than that considering your general aptitude. I'll repeat what I have said: you are permitted to take whomever you wish to the ball provided the requested party accepts your invitation. Is that clear enough?"

I stood briefly confused, but the words finally worked their way through my mind and exactly what she was saying: the rule was clear, and as long one stayed within the rule, it was permitted. To make sure I got what she meant, she repeated the rule verbatim. I finally nodded. "Perfectly. Thank you, Professor."

"Then I trust your business with me is concluded?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Very well," she said. "Good day."

I returned the farewell and left the classroom. Encouraged, I knew what I needed to do now. The dread of being refused by the school was now replaced with a new dread: refusal by whom I'm about to ask.

The rest of the day ticked on as if I was awaiting the final minutes before my own execution. I knew I was overreacting, but what Oleg and I had was hardly complicated and I wasn't sure I wanted to make it complicated by taking it to another level. While arguably asking Oleg to the ball wasn't taking it to another level, asking anyone to the ball isn't necessarily something ordinary friends would do. Despite my assurances, I still put off what I needed to do until it was almost too late. Christmas was days away now.

The time finally came when I was walking to the owlery to send my parents a letter about how things were going as I usually did. When I had arrived, I noticed that a Ravenclaw student was there, but as she wasn't bothering me, I didn't bother her. Before I did anything, Lumi came fluttering down. Lumi seemed to have an ability to know when I was coming because he always came fluttering down practically just before I came in. He perched on my shoulder, playfully nipped at my ear. I gave Lumi a quick treat and then presented him with the letter. "I hope it's not too cold for you, Lumi," I said to him.

Lumi just made a dismissive noise and took the letter in his beak. I ducked as he beat his wings into the wind and took off briskly out of the owlery. With my part of the job done, I turned and left. I had just made it across the foot bridge when I ran into Oleg. Neither of us expected we'd run into each other at this exact time, so we were both a little startled.

"Oleg!" I blurted out. Recomposing myself, I said. "Hi…"

"Hello," he replied, recomposing himself as well. "Uh…are you busy?"

"Not anymore. I was just heading back to the common room to study." I looked away, tempted to keep going but something told me to stay, somehow sensing that this might be the last time I'd be seeing Oleg without an audience between now and the night of the ball. "Actually, is it ok…if I ask you something?"

Oleg blinked. "Uh, yes?"

I blew out a sigh. "Ok, well…uh…I have something to ask you." I kicked myself again. Since when do I repeat myself literally seconds after the first time? "Sorry…uh…well…" I stalled for a bit, and Oleg didn't seem in the least irritated, which amazed me. "Ok…I was wondering…" I began to start. Oleg seemed to perk up slightly; I was at the point of no return now, I thought. "I was wondering if you wanted to go to the Yule Ball with me…"

This was it; I said it. Oleg blinked once, but his eyes grew as my request reached his brain. "You're asking…me?"

I nodded. Now that the initial question was out, I felt freer to speak my mind. "I do. Ever since I've been here, I've been so driven to do what I need to do that I never had any real friends here, and you've seen the lot I've had to live with. I've tolerated that, up until this year." I didn't know why I kept going, but I wanted to because I felt that he deserved to know. "You are my best real friend, and I'd like nothing less than to take you to the ball."

Oleg was speechless. The longer he didn't say anything, the more I grew discouraged. I broke the silence and thought I'd better go. "It's ok if you don't want to go. I'm sorry—" I started to walk around him.

He grabbed my arm, and my blue eyes looked right into his silver eyes. "Do not go…"

Automatically, I replied. "All right." As I looked at him, I couldn't help but notice that his eyes seemed more radiant than I recalled…or maybe they were moister.

"I will go with you," he said.

I blinked, as if I've just been slapped. "You will?"

He slowly smiled. "I will."

Despite the assurance, my mind was still completely stalled with disbelief. Ever so slowly, I was becoming aware that I was gawking like a vacuous teenage girl. "Brilliant! Well, I guess I'll see you then if not before. Thank you, Oleg!"

Oleg nodded.

I was about two steps beyond when I realized something. "Oh, wait, did you have something you needed from me?"

Oleg turned back to me, realizing I wasn't leaving just yet. "Oh…uh…I was going to ask you if you wanted to go to ball too."

That dumbfounded me. He was going to ask me himself? I felt the compulsion to laugh, but I held it in. "Well, I guess that settled." I cleared my throat. "Christmas is in just a few days. I hope that's not too soon."

Oleg shook his head. "It is all right. Headmaster Karkaroff is making sure we all are at Yule Ball, even if we did not want to."

"You didn't want to?" I ask, not sure how I felt about what he said.

Oleg looked startled, as if he said something he didn't mean to say. "N-no, I am not meaning it like that," he said quickly. Relaxing a bit, he continued, "We were all told to find someone to take to Ball as part of us being here at this school for Tournament. Ever since First Task, I was thinking that would not happen, until I was thinking of asking you."

It appeared that Oleg was in a similar position as I was, although his was practically forced upon him while I had the choice to bury my feelings instead of facing them. "I'm sorry that you had to deal with that."

Oleg nodded. "But I ask you to be knowing this: I was not going to ask you because the headmaster wanted me to find someone; I was asking you because I wanted to. You are special to me too."

I didn't say anything to that for a little bit, but I was certainly touched. "Thank you, Oleg. You are to me too." I swallowed, amazed at how much Oleg affected my overall behaviour. "Well, uh, I'd best go. I'll see you soon."

"Wait," he said.

I turned back to him. "Yes?"

Oleg seemed just as dry-mouthed as I was. "I-I am wanting to thank you for helping me before, back in that shack."

I smiled. "Anytime." I knew that he wanted to say something else; he didn't want me to leave just yet. "I really have to go. There's a lot I need to do before the Ball. I will talk to you soon."

He nodded. "Goodbye."

"See you later."

We parted ways, albeit reluctantly. I made my way back to the common room to finish my studies and prepare for the Ball. Whatever befalls me now, I'm committed.

Back in the common room, I took my established place at the table to study, but my mind was abuzz about Oleg. Ever since I've gotten here, I've kept my feelings in check from my peers because of how many in my House like to act. Oleg, ever so slowly, managed to unlock that part of my heart. At first, I was concerned what I was feeling was real at first, but now I knew it was. Ever since I was sorted into Slytherin, I was focused on being the best I could, never minding what any other Slytherin had to say. I locked away any concept of affection for anyone because of whom I roomed with, and it was that way for six years. A few Slytherin girls tried to get my attention; one even tried to smuggle me an Amortentia, a very strong love potion to say the least. It was a "shame" I knew about them already in Potions class and disposed of it. I can't say I blame them. I wasn't so vain as to think I was the most handsome man in Slytherin, but I also wasn't so insecure as to think that I wasn't at least handsome. I bloomed well, I believe.

Despite all that, I never thought I would ever be with anyone at Hogwarts because of how dedicated I was to my education in addition to having a general disdain for my peers in my own house. As for prospects in other houses, over the last four years, there's been increasing suspicion against Slytherin men and women that seemed all the worse since Potter first came to Hogwarts. Ergo, my odds were minimal had I tried. That all changed when Oleg entered my life. Before the beginning of the year, Professor Snape's words from my fifth year had echoed in my head regarding my lack of a true answer in what I wanted to do with my life. Although everything I said was true, it was a bluff at the time. What I knew I lacked was the reason why I was doing it all. What was my motivation beyond my grades? I thought it was just so I could do whatever I wanted within reason—I wasn't just some power-hungry wizard after all—but the more I considered it before this year, the more it sounded like an excuse. Oleg was the final straw; even now, in my last year, I doubted my reasons to be here. Oleg broke the façade within me; I had no idea why I was doing this, but I knew there was a reason. Otherwise, I wouldn't have kept going as fiercely as before. That being said, why did Oleg cause me to second-guess myself as much as he did?

The days didn't seem to wait for me to answer that question, because it was Christmas before I realized it. I awoke that morning and found that my parents had sent me a few gifts for the day, which bore a walking stick that I recognised to be my grandfather's, freshly refinished and repainted; the other was a silver signet ring that bore the impressed crest of Slytherin. I had to wonder how my parents, one being a Ravenclaw and the other a Hufflepuff were even able to get such a ring without fuss. My mind flashed back to the letter I got when I first was Sorted into Slytherin. Despite my House's disdain for Hufflepuff and annoyance of Ravenclaw, my parents knew that the Hat made the right choice. This was their way of supporting me when even my own House merely tolerated me.

The rest of the day was swept into getting ready for the Yule Ball that night. After luncheon feast, I spent the rest of the day making sure I would be presentable for the Yule Ball. When the sun set, I was in the dormitory fixing my dress robes. I had found a midnight blue robe with a black inner lining that had modest star-like shapes inside that were so small that they were barely noticeable. This I would wear over a matching blue waistcoat containing a white ruffle. Hardly a comfortable form of wearables, but it was definitely formal. I placed my wand in its spot inside my robe's left sleeve. While it was unlikely I would need it, habit and good sense told me to always have one's wand upon his person in case of emergencies.

The hour came and I made my way from the dungeons to the Great Hall, where the ball was to be held. When I arrived, I noticed the great crowd had already started gathering inside the outside of it. I looked around at the gathering crowd and saw how much of the men looked similar with their looks, while the women had greater variety in their dress gowns. As my eyes shot around the room, I noticed Potter with his friend Weasley standing apprehensively on the opposite side, and at once I noticed Weasley's choice of robes. I pitied the girl that would be dancing with him, and no Obliviator could wipe this memory away, I felt.

The oak doors leading outside opened up, and I watched the Durmstrang men march in. As I looked for Oleg, I saw Viktor Krum leading the regiment, as it were, accompanied by a blue-garbed girl I didn't recognise. Finally, I noticed Oleg towards the rear, looking apprehensive, dressed in the radiant red robes that all the Durmstrang lads wore, with a fur-edged cloak bound over his chest and draped over his left arm. It made him look royal, and quite handsome.

As soon as they entered, Professor McGonagall, dressed in scarlet tartan robes with an admittedly dreadful wreath around her brimmed pointed hat—I would never tell her that myself—quickly strode forward to get the Champions and their dates in place while instructing the rest of us to enter the Great Hall. I hesitated long enough for Oleg to find me out of the crowd, and he strode forward.

"Hello, Ewan," he smiled.

I smiled as well. "You clean up very well."

For a brief moment, he looked sheepish, but didn't say anything.

"We'd better enter before Professor McGonagall finds a way to give _both_ of us detention," I said, offering an arm.

Oleg took the arm without any hesitation. As we walked, I was aware that a few staring eyes were glaring at me, silently judging me for not having a partner not of the fairer sex, but it only showed they knew nothing about me. I never cared what people thought of me unless it was my father, mother, headmaster and professors.

We strode into the Great Hall, and we could see that the Great Hall was transfigured. It was frosted over with silver frost with holly, ivy and mistletoe dotting the walls, while the ceiling sky was starry as a winter's night. We didn't have much time to take it all in right away as we knew that the Champions would be right on top of us had we stayed where we were. We turned left and made for the side so we'd be inconspicuous. I knew that most of the eyes would be on the Champions so I had no worries, and neither did Oleg.

The doors opened, and the hall erupted into applause as the four Triwizard Champions strode in. Fleur Delacour led the four pairs, followed by Krum, Diggory and Potter. As they strode by, I looked again at Krum's date, and I was shocked to see that it was one of Potter's friends: Hermione Granger! She looked so different that I didn't see it at first. I looked at Oleg, wondering if he knew. Oleg looked at me, and seemed to sense my confusion. "I did not know."

My eyes fell on the Champions again and saw Potter escorting someone I did not know, but he looked completely uncomfortable. I guessed he really didn't want to be here, or rather he didn't want to be with his date. The four pairs made for the table on the far end of the Great Hall, and I noticed that Oleg's Headmaster, Karkaroff, was looking like he ate a lemon. "What's he so mad about?" I asked Oleg.

Oleg looked amused. "I was thinking it was because of me asking you to come to Ball, but he does not care about me now that Krum is Champion."

I felt relieved about that. "Then what's got him so hacked off?"

"He is disapproving of Krum's date."

I rubbed the bridge of my nose, sighing resignedly. "Typical."

As the Champions sat at the round table with Dumbledore and the rest of the judges, the rest of us found tables to sit around. We were joined by another Durmstrang with his date, and a Beauxbatons with hers. Neither pair seemed bothered by the fact that I was sitting with a Durmstrang. Apparently, their glittering golden menus were far more interesting. There were no wait staff to wait upon us, but I've been to Hogwarts long enough to know one wasn't necessary.

Oleg however looked a little lost. Things were probably done differently at Durmstrang, so I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze while I demonstrated what to do. I pointed to a part of the menu. "You say it aloud. Like so:" Louder, I said, "Bangers and mash, two cheese crumpets, eton mess and butterbeer." As soon as I was done, everything appeared on my plate on command, minus the butterbeer of course; that appeared in the chalice obviously.

The rest of Yule Dinner went on uneventfully, and I felt more relaxed than I ever have been. The food was delicious to be sure, but all the worries I had before the Yule Ball seemed so trivial now that the day had arrived. Oleg himself was all smiles as well. This night was going so well and it was just beginning.

We ate fairly quickly, because we knew that for the dance to happen, the floor would need to be cleared. Sure enough, once we got done, Professor Dumbledore requested all of us to finish. Once all of us stepped away, the tables and chairs were stacked against the walls with magic, clearing the floor for the dance. The four Champions and their dates took their spots in the clearing to start the dance. The first song was slower and more somber, and so we stood along the perimeter. Oleg didn't seem wanting to dance, and I didn't want to make a spectacle of ourselves with the night going so well for us.

Other couples strode out to dance—Dumbledore took Madame Maxime to the floor to our amusement considering their size difference—but Oleg decided this wasn't the right song for us just yet. Once the song ended, however, the Wicked Sisters—Merlin knows how Dumbledore was able to get them—decided to speed things up a bit, and the floor suddenly filled up with avid couples dancing. The change was so swift and sudden that Oleg and I were practically thrust into it. The floor was so packed that we were practically in each other's arms just so we wouldn't fall and get trampled. Oleg and I could only look at each other, wondering what to do, when I finally just shrugged and said. "We might as well…"

The dance went on for quite some time, and we began to get a little red from how hot it was getting. We worked our way out of the crowd and made our way to find some cold drinks. Once a couple butterbeers were obtained, we sat down where we could to get our breath. After a few sips, I managed to finally say, "So what do you think?"

Oleg smiled. "I am thinking that we are having good time."

"Yes, we are." I downed a few more gulps. "It's still warm in here. You feel up for a walk to find cooler winds?"

He nodded. We both made for the doors and walked through them. "Not to the courtyard; Professor Snape is patrolling tonight and he's not fun even during the best of times. I have a better spot in mind. Follow me, and keep an eye out for Peeves. He's a poltergeist that doesn't have an honest bone in him, so to speak, and he'd snitch on anyone he sees." I took Oleg through the Great Staircase Tower towards the hospital wing. We passed by the stairs that led up there and made for the Clock Tower Courtyard, and I beckoned to the walkways to the side. I found a darkened alcove for us to sit in. As Oleg set himself down, I took out my wand. "Just need to establish a perimeter. It will just be a moment." I rose my wand high, and then swept it downwards and across. " _Cave Inimicum_." I rose my wand again, repeating the gesture with each spell. " _Fianto Duri_. _Salvio Hexia._ _Glacius Repellum."_ I sighed. "I think that will do." I sat down beside Oleg.

Oleg had listened to me casting the protective enchantments. "You are also protecting us from unfriendly spells as well?"

"I don't like leaving anything to chance. There are many forces in Hogwarts, good and ill, beyond witches and wizards, poltergeists and such. Overlooking even the smallest probability could mean the difference between success and failure, and I've learned that lesson well."

Oleg nodded.

"I've also made sure that while we're here to cool down that we don't get too cold, so we shouldn't feel too inclined to leave for a while."

Oleg smiled a bit, and I felt he knew what I was talking about. "It has been only two months since we first have met."

"Has it been?" I sat back. "It feels longer than that for some reason."

"A lot has happened."

"I suppose so. Rather, I'm amazed how much can happen within a relatively short about of time. Strangely enough, my tenure here at Hogwarts feels like it hasn't been over six years." When I thought about the irony that six years seemed to go by fast versus my two months with Oleg felt like a year's worth, I felt a strange sense of despondency. "Truth be told, I'm beginning to realize that I may have missed a lot." I looked at Oleg.

Oleg looked a little sad. "Do you not have more friends?"

"Have you seen me with anyone else since you've been here?" I didn't allow Oleg the time to answer because I knew his answer already. "I've been so consumed with my studies and other reasons that I never really bothered with something that seemed as trite as camaraderie. I've never been a typical Slytherin if you will, and you've seen the cretins with whom I'm sorry to live."

Oleg couldn't help but smile at my disdainful outlook on my house. "Yes, they are not kind."

"And you're too nice by saying that." I looked down. "Over the years, I've grown more and more disappointed with the general behaviour of my House. When I came, there used to be some semblance of pride and dignity as a Slytherin, but as the years went by, our pride seems to have diminished to just being first in everything. Ambition is second-nature to a Slytherin, but the immaturity I've had to deal with has made being Slytherin odious."

"Odious?" Oleg asked.

I had to smile. English was a second language to Oleg who spoke Russian as his main tongue. "Odious means that it's repulsive and terrible."

Oleg nodded.

"Truth be told, I wasn't sure how I felt to be in my House since I was sorted. After time, I accepted it and used what was good at my House to rise above the predispositions of my House. Up until my fourth year, it wasn't that bad, but the years after, it seemed like our standards were lowering. Each new Slytherin selection was worse than the last. As the better Slytherin's graduated out, my House began to grow more and more deplorable. Honestly, I don't know how I would have managed myself this year had I not met you."

Oleg smiled again, not looking away. "I am happy I met you too."

"If it wasn't for the Triwizard Tournament…" I started as I looked at Oleg, and something about the light reflecting in his eyes hypnotized me. The more I gazed into them, the closer we seemed to be to each other. Silence reigned and the space between us closed. I was so close now that I felt I could see deep into his eyes, and I found something I didn't know he had in me. I could see myself, and I could see how I felt about him.

Suddenly, our lips pressed softly with each other. It felt like an electric jolt passed between us, but instead of withdrawing, it drew us further in. It was nothing but bliss, and the castle seemed respectfully quiet for us. Time was meaningless, so we had no idea how long that small kiss was we then parted. Our eyes met once again.

That wait was too much for Oleg apparently, and he lunged into my face and smashed my lips against his. I grunted from the impact, but all I could do was moan afterwards. Our tongues danced harder than we did moments before, and it only grew more intense with each kiss. We finally parted, panting like we ran the circumference of the grounds. As we could do is stare at each other, completely caught up in the moment.

Finally, I dared to say, "I didn't know you felt that much that way."

Oleg laughed a little. "I am thinking I always have."

"Maybe you're right," I said. "I wasn't so sure myself at first, but up until tonight, I just knew."

Oleg placed a hand on my heart, and I could see a small tear forming in one of his eyes. "I am so happy, but I am also so sad."

"Why?"

"Because after this summer, I have to go back home. I do not want to."

I knew he was right about that. I hadn't considered the fact that once the end of the year comes, the Durmstrang men would have to leave, and I would go back home to Scotland. "I'm sure I can find a way to visit you, or for you to visit me. I'll be graduated from Hogwarts as well, so I'll be living my own life. The distance between us will just be an inconvenience."

Oleg sat back down beside me. "You are right. I am wishing it was not that way."

"I hear you. If it works out, it won't once this is all over. You've given me something to work towards. That was something I was missing during my entire school here. More accurately, _you_ were what I was missing here at school. Even if it was for a short time, I know that I was missing someone like you this whole time. I didn't have a purpose before; now I do." I felt wetness in my own eyes. "I don't know if you realize what you've given me." I took his hand and placed it on my chest again. "You've given me a heart. You've given this cynical Slytherin a heart. That's the greatest gift anyone has ever given me."

Oleg teared up again. "Thank you. That is very kind of you." He blinked a bit, trying to fight the tears. "For years, I was thinking I was all alone around my comrades. I was always different around them, but I was strong enough to not let them bother me. When I met you, I am knowing I can be myself. You are giving me that, and I am thanking you."

I smiled. "I never wanted you to pretend around me, although you never did. I understand the need to put on a face around people who don't understand; I've done it for years like you have. The only difference between you and me is that I didn't care what anyone thought minus those who were important to me, such as my teachers. One day, you'll understand that no one gets to judge you except those whom you allow, so whatever anyone else say or think will never matter."

Oleg nodded. "I understand."

"I know you do. It's just something you need to arrive at on your own." I looked around. "There's still some time left at the ball. Want to go back?"

"Not yet. Let us sit here for a little while."

"All right then."

Oleg smiled, and looked up as something caught his eyes. "How long has that being there?"

I looked at him, and then looked up. Sure enough, there was a small twig of mistletoe that seemed to be hovering over our heads as if intentionally placed there by Merlin-knows-whom. Smiling, I looked back at Oleg. "Like I said, strange forces like to be mischievous around this castle. At least this one is well-meaning."

We did end up rejoining the Yule Ball some time later, but we took advantage of the moment before we did. Whoever or whatever put that branch of mistletoe there has my gratitude.

XXXXXXXXXX

A new year began, and I was amused to see the Yule Ball romances for many dwindle and die. Sometimes it was gradual and mutual, while others were quite the spectacle. Neither described Oleg and myself. If anything, our appearance at the Yule Ball had emboldened us to be a little more public with our relationship. Granted, we never explicitly said we were together, but even Professor Trelawney could tell, thick glasses notwithstanding.

While Oleg couldn't hang with me in the Slytherin common room, we did spend a lot of free time in other areas of the castle and the grounds. We often practised defensive spells on the grounds or near the lakeside. We never pursued trying to practise resisting the Unforgiveable Curses again. The last time dampened that novelty. The weather may have been frigid, but Oleg didn't mind and neither did I. I'm Scottish, and winters were second nature, while Oleg was Russian. Winters here were nothing compared to Russian ones.

I wish I could say it was a smooth winter, but on occasion, a few of my Slytherin peers thought that attempting to make me miserable for hanging out with a very male friend as much as I do. The girls tried it first, and it was quite pathetic. Being a prefect, I had the power to deduct House points from my own House. Most Slytherin prefects and Head Boys and Girls wouldn't dare do that, but I was not a normal Slytherin. All I had to do was take one point away from Millicent Bulstrode for behaviour unbecoming. Before the others with her could object, I dared them to say another word with points on the line. None dared.

Later, Oleg and I were coming back from the owlery after I sent Lumi on another post errand, we had turned the corner after crossing the bridge, I heard someone call out to us. "Well, well, if it isn't the son of a Mudblood!"

I rolled my eyes. Oleg looked affronted, but I motioned to him that I had this under control. "What's the matter, Malfoy?" I called out to him, seeing him with his two lackeys, Crabbe and Goyle. "Did Potter finally die and you needed someone else to pester?"

Malfoy sneered. "You may be older, but that doesn't change anything about you, Colquhoun. You're nothing but an embarrassment to Slytherin."

"Am I?" I said coolly. "I would think that would be your father."

His pale skin flushed. His father was no longer a governor of the school after it was found that he intimidated the other governors into suspending Dumbledore during the Chamber of Secrets threat two years ago. There were dark rumors of something else he did during that time, but nothing was ever proven. "My father will hear of this!"

"Go ahead," I said. "I don't fear your father at all, least of all you. All you've proven to me is that you can't do anything without cowering behind your father. Now _that_ is an embarrassment to Slytherin."

Malfoy turned beet red, and his wand was out. Before he could mutter a curse, my wand was out just as fast, and I wordlessly cast the Disarming Charm. His wand flittered right out of hands. Shocked, he reached for his wand, but I was already on it. " _Accio_!" The wand flew right into my waiting hands. Malfoy's eyes were like saucers as I held his wand away from him. "Now, before you get any other funny ideas, allow me paint this picture for you. You have just been disarmed by a half-blood, and not just a half-blood, but a half-blood born directly of a Muggle-born. If that's not embarrassing enough to a pure-blood, allow me to top it all off that you also attempted to curse a school prefect, which is worth a demerit of twenty points from Slytherin house, I'd say. No spin you could ever make will make you look good, so unless you are a glutton for punishment, I would suggest that you take back your wand and run along." I offered the wand back to Malfoy.

Malfoy looked properly chastised, and he took his wand back. Knowing Malfoy enough to try something underhanded when kicked down, I followed what I said up with. "I also know that you made a rather nice ferret, and while transfigurations are forbidden as a punishment, just know that I _do_ know how to duplicate that spell."

Malfoy turned whiter than normal and scampered off, his troupe behind him just as shell-shocked. Satisfied, I turned back to Oleg, who had waited in silence. "See? No problem at all."

"That was amazing."

"Not really," I said. "Dealing with Malfoy is a lot easier than it seems, especially when one keeps his emotions in check."

"I see."

"Well, let's get back to the library. Regardless of anything that happened, I still have N.E.W.T.'s to study for."

Oleg nodded.

XXXXXXXXXX

January turned into February, and the Second Task approached. No one had any idea what the Second Task was going to be, but we did know that the golden egg the four champions retrieved from the First Task's dragons contained a vital clue about it. When the twenty-fourth of February arrived, we found out that the task was going to take place in the Black Lake. We arrived at the shore with much of the school, and Dumbledore explained that last night, a precious item was stolen from each of the champions. To retrieve it, they had an hour to dive to the depths of the lake, find the item and return to the surface.

We all watched as the four champions dove into the water and out of sight. With nothing for us to see until someone reappeared, all we could do was wait patiently. Oleg and I were eating some pumpkin pasties as we waited, when Dumbledore announced that the Beauxbatons' champion, Fleur Delacour, had retired from the Task when she was unable to overcome a pack of grindylows.

I winced. "That's unfortunate. Another reason I'm glad I'm not in this Tournament."

"What is a grindylow?" Oleg asked.

"You never heard of them?" I asked.

Oleg shook his head.

"Well, thank goodness you never encountered them then. They're nasty little water demons that are like half fish and half octopus. You thought the giant squid of the lake was bad; grindylows are much worse. They may be small, but they more than make up for it in numbers. If you are swimming and encounter a pack, you better have a good spell up your sleeve or else they will tear you apart."

" _Bozhe moi_ ," he sighed.

"You said it." I looked to see a number of the Beauxbatons' girls consoling a fretting Fleur. "I hope none of the others found that pack. No one else has come up yet."

"Maybe they are ok," Oleg ventured optimistically.

"Maybe," I said. "We won't know until the end of the Task, I suppose."

The clock continued to tick down the hour, and there was no other change in activity as each minute ticked by. Many of the students tired of standing, but Oleg and I remained watching. The revelation of the grindylows made us too uneasy to sit. Legends of grindylows waiting just under the water near shorelines were all too common. While they typically preyed on younger children, grindylows were no laughing matter. If need be, Oleg and I were ready to curse them with some Stunning Spells.

As the hour drew to a close, someone finally rematerialized from the water, or rather two "someones." As they swam for the shore, I recognised one as the Hogwarts champion, Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff, and he brought a girl with him to shore. Where did she come from?

It then hit me. The items that Dumbledore had informed us were stolen weren't objects, but people! People the champions deemed important in their lives! Upon closer inspection, I recognised the girl as the Ravenclaw girl being in the tower. Also, it was the same girl Cedric danced with at the Yule Ball.

Not much longer later, a girl popped up back in the lake, followed by something that looked like a shark. Alarmed, my wand was at the ready, but the shark's head transfigured into a human head, the one belonging to Viktor Krum. Sure enough, the girl he had retrieved was Hermione Granger, Viktor's date at the Ball.

As Viktor carried a shivering Hermione to shore, I heard Oleg say, "I did not know Viktor could do that."

"Human transfiguration is tricky magic," I said. "If you don't do it right, it's bad. Very bad."

The clock suddenly chimed; the hour was up. There was no sign of Potter or his quarry at first; a minute later, three figures popped up from the waters: one was red-haired, the other black-haired and the other was a very small girl. All of them were swimming to shore, and Fleur practically dived back into the water for the girl. Once they got closer, I recognised the red-haired boy as being a Weasley. It was Ron Weasley, one of Potter's friends. The last one had to be Harry himself. He looked like he had gone through it.

As the four champions dried themselves off and were patched up if needed, the judges tallied the points, spoke with the merchieftain—I didn't know there were merpeople in the lake—and we all waited to see who won. Finally, Dumbledore announced that the winner was Cedric Diggory, which made sense since he emerged first after successfully completing the task. Potter scored second, which drew a lot of criticism from the crowd, mainly from my Slytherin peers. That would tie him for first with Cedric. Viktor came in third and Fleur understandably finished last. With the Second Task ended, the rest of us dispersed, wondering what was coming next.

XXXXXXXXXX

There was only one final Task before a champion was decided, and it would be some time before it happened. In the meantime, Oleg and I knew that our time together was growing short. March was upon us, and the school term ended at the beginning of July, and we didn't know if the other schools would leave shortly after the Final Task. Since we didn't know precisely when the Final Task was, we didn't take every moment for granted.

During the thaws in late March, Oleg and I took the opportunity to visit Hogsmeade, a small town near the Hogwarts grounds. On certain weekends, Hogwarts students are allowed to visit Hogsmeade to get away from the castle, and I didn't go most of the time because it allowed me to have the castle mainly to myself, minus the first-years and second-years. This year was mainly different because of Oleg; I had a reason now. We spent some time at the Three Broomsticks and walking around the town, but the big event was when I took him out to a secluded glade in the nearby woods.

"What are we doing here?" Oleg said as I was finishing up some protective enchantments, the same ones I used on Christmas night.

"I apologise, but just give me a small moment." I took off my satchel and opened it on the ground. I took my wand out and pointed it inside briefly, and then waved it over the grove. Instantly, a quilt, some plates, silverware, containers with food, pillows and other assorted items flew out of my satchel—clearly much smaller than what should contain what I withdrew—and arranged themselves neatly on the ground. Once the spell was complete, I stood up and looked at Oleg, who looked a little perplexed. "What? You've never seen an Undetectable Extension Charm before?"

Oleg nodded slowly, as if understanding what I did finally.

"Oh, and just between you and me, I would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone I can do that. It's very strictly enforced by the Ministry of Magic. While not nearly as bad as the Unforgiveable Curses, I'd rather not face an inquiry for just making assembly of a picnic easier."

"I understand." Oleg smiled. "You are doing this for me?"

"For us, technically," I said. "But yes…" I sat down and opened a container. "It's nothing grandiose, but I'm hoping you don't turn down some Scotch eggs."

For the better part of an hour, we ate, laughed and shared stories from our personal experiences. With no one likely going to stumble upon us here with my enchantments guarding us, we were perfectly safe here.

"I remember hearing about this one time in my fifth year. You remember that blond brat, Malfoy, right? Well, he had just joined the Slytherin Quidditch team as their new Seeker—bought in by his father no doubt—and he had the audacity to call one of Potter's friends a 'Mudblood.' Not surprising there, but the best part came when the Weasley boy was so mad that he tried to curse Malfoy with the Slug-vomiting Charm. It might have worked…had his wand not been broken. Instead, the wand backfired, blasting Weasley with the curse and the next thing anyone knows, he's spewing slugs everywhere!"

Oleg grimaced as he laughed. "Really?"

"That's what I heard anyway. Shame that; it might have even cleaned out Malfoy's mouth had it worked."

Oleg laughed harder. "Nothing like that has happened at my school."

"That's a bit of a shame. I'm sure the Durmstrang boys could use a good laugh once and again."

Oleg wiped his eyes. "Perhaps, but it is still good choice. My uncle did choose that school for me."

Now that surprised me. "He had a choice?"

" _Da_ ," Oleg said. "I was born in west Russia, west of St. Petersburg. Durmstrang is west, and Koldovstoretz is east in Ural Mountains."

I shrugged slightly. "I didn't know there was another wizarding school out that way. Then again, before this year, I never bothered to look into where others might be. I know Beauxbatons is somewhere in south France, while Durmstrang is to the east. Scandinavia, I presume…"

Oleg smiled, somewhat wryly. "I cannot tell you where it is. It is forbidden."

"I know," I said. "I tried once when we tried the Imperius Curse. That was a breaking point for you."

"Good."

"Well, it won't matter by the end of the year. We will both have graduated our respective schools and living our own lives." I sighed a little bit. "I honestly don't know how I plan to live without you around though."

Oleg looked a little sad as well. "Me too."

"What do you plan to do after this all ends?"

Oleg looked away. "Talk to uncle about last year. After that, I do not know."

"I was thinking of working at the Ministry. My father works there in the Improper Use of Magic office; I'm sure he can find me a job there, especially with my O.W.L.'s." I started rubbing my chin. "Perhaps once I start a job, I can find lodging of my own and…well…maybe you can come live with me?"

Oleg nearly dropped a bite of sausage rolls when he heard what I was asking. When he recovered, he said, "You mean that?"

An impulse inside me told me to chicken out, but I held firm because my heart knew better. "I do. I don't want this year to be a bygone romance. I want to see where this goes. You will still have to talk to your uncle about it though, but I'm sure I can definitely do it. Just need to see what the paygrade is."

Oleg nodded. "I would like that."

I smiled. "Great! We will have to figure out the best way to communicate with each other. Owls can take a little while, but I'm sure I can work out something. Are you ok with this? I don't want to do anything if you don't want to."

Oleg looked thoughtful for a second, but then nodded. "I want to. I do not want to be without you."

I almost teared up. "Thank you, Oleg. I have a feeling that the best years of our lives are coming."

I believed that to be true, but what I didn't know is that the years to come would also test our love to the absolute limits, because the world was about to change forever.

XXXXXXXXXX

April came, then May, and finally June. My N.E.W.T.'s were coming up, and I heard that they were aptly named the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests. Oleg helped out the best he could with my classes. I was in five N.E.W.T. classes since my sixth year: Charms, Transfigurations, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions and Astronomy. I had an O.W.L. in Ancient Runes as well, but I elected to pass over taking the N.E.W.T. level of that class as I didn't deem it necessary for my goals in life. It also freed up more time for studying, and I'm glad I made that decision. Not to mention, I chose to take the Apparition lessons—my mother was more than happy to forward me twelve Galleons for that—and I also took Alchemy classes. We had just enough students for that class.

Alchemy was merely an elective this year, but the courses I needed to pass were my five N.E.W.T. courses. We heard that the Final Task would be at the end of the month, and my exams would be days before it. June was something of a depressing month for us; time wasn't as available as it could be, even on weekends. As time grew closer, we knew that Oleg would have to leave soon. We tried to take advantage of any moment we could grab, and it was fleeting every time.

My N.E.W.T. examinations came and went, and I felt strong in them. I do believe Oleg was instrumental in helping me pass him. Now that exams were over, I intended to spend as much time as I could with him before I went.

June the twenty-fourth came, and it was the day of the Final Task of the Triwizard Tournament. Both of us showed up on the edges of the grounds, and as we approached, we could see a vast maze in the setting sun. It was by far the largest maze I have ever seen.

"Is that it?" Oleg said, sounding a little disappointed.

"Nothing about this Tournament has been that simple. Ironically, the simplest it has ever been was during the First Task: fetch an egg from a dragon. That was it. I have a feeling that it's not nearly as simple as wandering the maze."

"You might be right," Oleg said. "What do you think it might be?"

"Could be anything," I said. "Maybe another dragon will show up."

I didn't bother to continue speculating on what could befall the champions in this final task. For a third time, I was glad neither Oleg nor I were competing.

We took our seats, and the atmosphere was quite festive. The sun was beginning to set in the west, and as the twilight stars began to dot the sky, the four champions entered the field just before the entrances. The crowd was elated, and it wasn't silenced until one of the judges used the Sonorous Charm to make his voice boom around the stands. He announced the order of the champions—Potter and Diggory would enter first, then followed by Krum, and finally Delacour—and then announced that they each had to look for the Triwizard cup at the end of the maze. The first person who found it would be the winner. Soon after, he blew a whistle, and the two Hogwarts champions entered the maze.

In due time, Krum and Delacour entered the maze. Just like the previous task, we were forced to wait until someone found the Triwizard Cup in the centre of the maze. There was no countdown this time, so all we could do was wait until something happened. The end of term was a week from now, and it was likely that after the tournament, Oleg would return to Durmstrang with the rest of his comrades and have their own end-of-term celebration. It was depressing. I had hoped that he could watch me graduate.

As we talked, trying not to talk about what was foremost on our minds, there was a pop in the distance, like fireworks. Looking, we saw a simple spray of red sparks in the distance. Someone was attempting to retire. Oleg and I looked at each other. "I wonder who that could have been...," I wondered aloud as the red sparks hovered steadily in one area.

Some time later, a second set of sparks were in the air. "Something definitely has gone wrong in the maze," I whispered. "Assuming Fleur was the first, considering how she had to retire from the last one, that leaves Krum, Diggory and Potter. I don't see Krum giving up, nor do I see the others. Something has really gone wrong."

Oleg rested a hand on my shoulder. "You might be overreacting."

"Interestingly enough, I hope I am."

Many of the Hogwarts professors had bene patrolling the maze in case of the sparks, and there were successfully able to withdraw Delacour and Krum from the maze. Oleg was the most shocked about Krum. Krum looked dazed. "Maybe you are right," he finally said. "I was not expecting Viktor to give up, but I am not also expecting him to be hurt."

"What is going on inside that maze?" I wondered aloud.

"Well, it looks like Hogwarts is champion."

"Don't count the victories yet. If there are two other sets of sparks, this Task would default. They would have to try again later at best; at worst, find another way to select a winner."

More time passed; the sun was quite gone, and the area was only lit by torches and the occasional Wand-Lighting Charm. The audience was feeling just a fretful as we were now. No news at this point wasn't good news. How long were we going to wait?

Suddenly, there was flash of light and out of nowhere, two bodies and a giant chalice appeared in the middle of the grounds. The crowd at once erupted in cheers. It was so confusing that I barely could register who truly won. I had to stand up and try to fight the sea of clapping arms to see. I finally got to see. It looks like Potter and Diggory both managed to grab the cup and were teleported back. The cup was a Portkey.

"Who won?" Oleg asked; he was having a harder time than I was.

"I think they both did!" I exclaimed, trying to be heard over the crowd. "It looks like Potter is a little shaken by everything, and Diggory—" I realized that Diggory hadn't moved at all. In fact, it looked like he was staring into nothing. My heart froze. "Oh no…"

"What?" Oleg said.

I looked around, and saw that other people were beginning to see what had happened. People were clambering around the two champions, wondering what happened. There was a bedlam of voices erupting from the centre of it all, but the voices grew clearer. I soon was able to hear two words over and over. "He's dead! He's dead!"

I felt the blood drain from my face. "It's Diggory. Cedric Diggory is dead."

Oleg heard me, and he looked just as shocked as I was.

The crowd below grew increasingly crazy. Girls were screaming, and I heard one distinct cry: the cry of a grieving father. I slowly sat down, completely pale. Someone had died, and someone in the same year as me. I just couldn't comprehend it.

The rest of the night was murky to me; Oleg and I were just shocked to hear what had happened. The week afterwards, it grew even worse. It turned out our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Moody, was never Professor Moody at all. It was someone else acting under the Polyjuice Potion to look like him, and it was someone who apparently has escaped from Azkaban. The same night he was discovered, he was "killed" by a dementor that was escorting the Minister of Magic.

All of that, however, didn't come close to the ultimate bombshell, which dropped at the End-of-Term Feast. No one was ready for it, because most of us—mainly all the houses except mine—were too wrapped up in Cedric's tragic death. The feast began with a eulogy by Dumbledore, following a toast to the memory of Cedric Diggory.

"Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff House," Dumbledore continued. "He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not."

I could see a Ravenclaw girl, the one Cedric had taken to the Yule Ball, completely wet-faced with tears. My heart broke for the poor girl, and Oleg could see that I was troubled. He gave my hand a squeeze, not caring who saw.

Dumbledore continued. "I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about." I raised my head. Did they really find out what happened? "Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

That name was like a punch in the gut for the entire room, even my fellow Slytherins. Few ever dared to speak the name; they'd be crazy to, right? Whispers shot back and forth across the room, and Dumbledore waited until they died down.

"The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this. It's possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so—either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory."

I wasn't sure I believed Dumbledore himself. It had been thirteen years since You-Know-Who was last in power, and my parents never spoke of it. To even consider that dark time would soon return was unthinkable. As I thought, Dumbledore enlightened us that someone had seen all of this, and that was Harry Potter himself. He told us how Potter had not only managed to survive, but stood his ground against You-Know-Who and managed to escape fast enough to get Cedric's body back to his father. It all sounded quite heroic, but I could see Potter from where I was sitting, and he looked the opposite. He looked like he had led Cedric to his death.

To close, Dumbledore reminded us what the Triwizard Tournament was really about: creating and maintaining friendships, and that these relationships would become our strength in the coming dark times. As he said that, I looked at Oleg.

"Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."

The rest of the feast went on somberly. Earlier today, I had packed my things for my final exit of Hogwarts. I found out that the Durmstrang ship wouldn't be leaving until the graduation was complete. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons wouldn't leave until the other Hogwarts students would leave for the summer, so that goodbyes could be made. Part of me chastised myself for feeling elated in light of what happened, but this little favour was something I wouldn't take for granted. The world was about to change, and I was about to become a part of it. It was the least I could do to leave Hogwarts on a happier note.

The Hogwarts graduation ceremony was rather simple. Unlike the rest of the students that would take the buggies, the seventh-years would take the boats back to the train station, just like we did when we first came in out first year. As the rest of my graduating class assembled, I hung back inside the hallway that surrounded the Hogwarts entryway, talking to Oleg, who was ready to disembark as soon as I left.

"It's strange," I said. "To celebrate a graduation after all that happened. Cedric was supposed to take the boats with us, you know?"

"I am sorry," Oleg said compassionately.

"He wasn't even my friend, you know," I said. "He was in virtually all my classes and was Sorted right after me. He was a Hufflepuff and I was a Slytherin. There's been nothing but animosity between our Houses, so I never got to know him."

"Why are you saying this?" Oleg asked.

"I guess…" I paused a little to regain my thoughts. "I guess because I'm beginning to realize that this stupid House competition has gotten out of hand. We are now making it taboo to have friends outside of our houses, and all it's doing is create division, the same thing that You-Know-Who did back in the day. We haven't learned a thing since then, and even I learned it far too late. A great man won't be walking with us to start a new life, and I barely even know who he is, all because of House politics. This has gone on for too long."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm thinking, that at some point, I may return to Hogwarts, and attempt to revolutionize how House relations ensue. I'm not saying to do away with the Houses, but Hogwarts has become so divided. Should it remain this way, I think if You-Know-Who really is back, Hogwarts won't stand a chance."

Oleg seemed to understand, but there was still a lingering question in his eyes. "So, you believe he is back?"

I looked at him. It wasn't disbelief in his eyes; it was seeking affirmation. He wasn't sure he believed it himself, and he needed someone to confide in about it. That someone was me. Truth be told, I wasn't sure I did either, but the more I thought about it, the thought that he wasn't made less sense. "I've never known Dumbledore to lie. Granted, he wasn't there; his source must be Potter. I don't know Potter well enough to know if he is lying, but I did see him the night Cedric died; he was grief-stricken. Either Potter has completely snapped, or he really saw what he said he saw and it sent him into hysterics. Seeing the wizard that wanted you dead as a baby very well could have that effect."

"Are you saying you are believing him then?" Oleg cut off my rambling.

I snapped out of my rambling when he asked. "Oh, uh, I'm going to have to say, conditionally yes. Either way, things are not going to be the same, and we need to stay vigilant."

Oleg seemed satisfied by that. "I am frightened, Ewan."

I felt that fear, and I felt it within myself. "I am too. This is not what I wanted us to part on though. I need you to be strong, Oleg. We all need to be."

All we could do is look at each other for a while, wanting to say more in the rapidly decreasing amount of time we had together.

"Mr. Colquhoun," came a voice.

I looked down to see Professor Flitwick, Head of Ravenclaw House looking at me.

"We are waiting for you, so if you don't mind…"

I couldn't blame him for being—er—short with me. This last week has taken its toll on everyone.

"Thank you, Professor. I'm coming." I turned back to Oleg. "I have to go now. I'll write to you as much as I can." I could see Oleg wasn't ready for me to go. I held a hand to his chin. "I promise."

Oleg nodded. "I know. I—goodbye, Ewan."

My eyes were growing wet. "Goodbye for now, Oleg." I pulled away, feeling empty as I stepped away from him and turned towards where my fellow graduates were waiting. I was two steps away, when I couldn't take it anymore. I turned right back around, marched right back to you and kissed Oleg. Oleg nearly melted, and for the couple of seconds we were together, words weren't necessary. Finally, I had to pull away for the final time. "I love you," I said.

Oleg nodded, his eyes dripping in tears. "I love you too."

All my mental discipline that I had developed over seven years studying as a Slytherin student had failed me; tears were streaming down my face. "I have to go now. I'll miss you."

Oleg nodded, and I stepped away. I forced myself to walk away, towards the graduation class. As I walked by a silent Professor Flitwick, I said as I tried to compose myself, "Fine time for it to rain today…"

Professor Flitwick looked at me briefly, then towards Oleg who moved to see me clearly from where he stood in the hallway, and then back at me. He chose to say nothing.

I joined the rest of my graduating peers as the stood in rows of four. We were intermixed with each other in a rare form of unity, but despite that, there was a clear hole in our group, one that would have been filled by Cedric had he lived. In front of us, the four heads of the Houses stood before us solemnly.

Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, addressed us all. "You represent another year of Hogwarts gone, and while this is the final time you will leave here as students, know that all of you are welcome back to Hogwarts whenever you desire. Each of you have your own experiences here at Hogwarts; some pleasant, some trying, some…" Professor McGonagall seemed to let her composure slip a little bit but regained it. "…harder than others, but you have each risen to every challenge presented to you at this school. We all have great faith in your future endeavors. And now, go with our blessings, Hogwarts Graduates."

The four heads parted in front of us, two to the left and two to the right. We then strode forward in uniform succession towards the docks, where our final passage awaits. Awaiting us at the docks was the large form of Professor Hagrid waiting for us. I remembered that he led us across the lake on the first night I came to Hogwarts. As I left, I could hear clambering back in the main entrance to the school. Now that the graduates were departing, it was time for the other students to get ready to leave for their summer holiday. There were also the goodbyes being made to the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students. Looking up, I dared to hope to see Oleg watching, and sure enough, he was standing on top of the stairs that came down to the docks. Seeing him, I smiled one last time, assuring him that it was going to be all right. I could see him smile as well, assured.

The time came for us to leave, and we boarded our boats. At the same time, the Durmstrang students boarded their ship from the docking point. I sat with Susan Andrews, the Hufflepuff student whose robes I nearly tripped on the very first night, and I watched as the ship began to sail away. I watched it go with fresh wetness in my eyes.

"I didn't expect to see a Slytherin to be so emotional," Susan said to me.

She didn't mean it as hard as it sounded, I know, but it still stung to still see that bias still fresh even after House no longer mattered. "I didn't expect to hear something so cold from a Hufflepuff," I said chidingly. Remembering what I had said to Oleg, I relaxed some. "Sorry; your prejudices aren't without merit, I dare admit. If there is anything in defense of my Slytherin brethren, it's that we often don't find our hearts because we're so caught up in chasing our ambitions. Sometimes, however, we do find our hearts when we find out why we are truly so ambitious."

Susan seemed to accept that I truly felt that way. "Well, it's a pity that many of your Slytherin brethren don't seem to find that."

"You're probably right; that's the dark side of ambition. That's why ambition must be balanced with kindness, galvanized with valour, and held in check with discretion. That's what the four Houses were supposed to be all about; helping each other, but instead we built rivalries instead of friendships. I was too blind to see it, but this year, I see it all too clearly…"

Susan looked surprised. "Well, it seems that you _did_ find your heart."

"Yeah, I did," I said slowly as my eyes drifted back towards the Durmstrang ship. "And I just said goodbye to it."

We were distracted by a series of whinnying horses, and we saw the Beauxbatons' carriage, carried through the air by six flying snow-white horses fly overhead. I looked back to the Durmstrang ship, just in time to see it disappear into the Black Lake. My heart twisted a little as it disappeared. I didn't know when I would see him again, but I would soon find out that it would be sooner than I expected.


	2. Part 2

A hot summer came, but it didn't seem to matter to me. When I got home, I immediately dove into getting a job. My father was able to get me a job at the Improper Use of Magic Office in London quite quickly, and I dove into work as if tomorrow would never come. I wrote to Oleg as much as I could, and he wrote back just as much. It would have been a good summer had it not been overcast with such a dark overtone. Throughout the summer, the Daily Prophet seemed committed to discrediting Dumbledore and Potter as much as imaginably possible. If it didn't cover the front page so much, I would have assumed it was another gossip column by Rita Skeeter.

I primarily worked alongside Ms. Mafalda Hopkirk, who was an assistant in the same office. Her job was to issue warnings, letters of expulsion and such to those witches and wizards who were caught using magic under the Trace—underage wizard monitoring—or magical infractions caused by older witches and wizards.

For the most part, it was routine. I helped formulate other letters as well as receive intelligence of improper use of magic within our jurisdiction. I sometimes crossed paths with my father, who would often give me pointers on whom to talk to and to avoid if possible. One of which was Dolores Umbridge, the Senior Undersecretary. It was hard to miss her in a crowd, despite her height. She seemed obsessed with the colour pink and she was the most toad-like of women I've ever seen. Normally, I wouldn't be so quick to judge someone, but apparently, the curtain does match the drapes when it came to her.

Thankfully, she seemed to not to notice me most of the time, because I got my job done, however basic it was, and I asked no questions. My purpose here was just to work, and I didn't want to get embroiled into the obvious private war between Dumbledore and Minister Fudge. My goals lay elsewhere.

My summer took quite the change in August. I was working late one early August night when the Trace picked up a very powerful use of magic in a Muggle town called Little Whinging, south of London. It was odd enough because the charm used was a Patronus Charm, a spell that cannot be done on accident. The real bombshell was who cast it.

When I got the intelligence, I was with Ms. Hopkirk at the time, refiling some past offences as we reorganised the office—clutter is something not exclusive to Muggles to be sure. Normally, most of the intelligence we gather from the Trace doesn't come from the "offenders" themselves, but from something that happened nearby, typically from their parents in all-magic families. This is often overlooked due to how often this happens, and it's well controlled by the parents. This time, however, it was undeniably caused by an underage wizard, and worse, in the presence of a Muggle. The wizard cast a Patronus Charm, a spell that can't be cast on accident, in the presence of a Muggle. It was a worst-case scenario, but what made it all the worse was whom the caster was:

Harry Potter.

My eyes nearly bulged out of my head when I saw the name. At once, I turned to Ms. Hopkirk. "You better see this."

Ms. Bopkirk looked at the intelligence, and shook her head. "I had already warned him once. There's going to have to be a hearing now."

"What did he do last time?" I asked.

"You can look at his file to find out," she said. "I need to send a letter right away. He wasn't at home, but he will soon return there. A letter must be there when he arrives."

I had mixed feelings about this. Potter was not an idiot, but to do such a thing seems unfathomable. Patronuses are generally used when resisting dementors, but minus a few rare examples in recent years, the dementors stayed at Azkaban. Nothing about this made any sense. "Very well. I'll draft a report and scribe a copy for the rec—"

The softest clearing of the throat silenced the room. Both of us stopped what we were doing to see a short squat woman, dressed in pink that seemed to only make her smaller and squatter, with a black velvet bow in her dark brown locks of hair. It might have been adorable if it wasn't so nauseating. Plus, the room seemed to grow a lot colder. I had to suppress my emotions quite well around the Senior Undersecretary. Ms. Umbridge delighted in making someone's life barely better than a cell in Azkaban.

Ms. Bopkirk seemed just as uncomfortable. "Yes, Madam Undersecretary?"

Ms. Umbridge smiled, which seemed to have an ironic effect on anyone who saw it. "Mr. Colquhoun. I require your presence in my office as soon as I'm done with Ms. Bopkirk."

That smiled remained unchanged, and I grew more and more unsettled. "Yes, Madam Undersecretary. Right away."

I gingerly made my way around Ms. Umbridge, and she didn't seem to pay me more any mind than she did Ms. Bopkirk. Once out of sight, my blood began to chill. What could the Senior Undersecretary want with me? For the last month, I didn't do anything that might merit discipline, and my jobs were so mundane that I haven't done anything worth mentioning. What could she possibly want to speak to me about?

I reached her office, which faced several interns assembling pamphlets on columns of desks. Despite the only thing they were doing was waving wands over each pamphlet and sending it down, the noise it made almost sounded like a slow march. I stood waiting outside the office, dreading the upcoming conversation.

"What are you doing here?" came a voice.

I looked up and looked to see one Albert Runcorn. I have run into him a few times before, and while he wasn't nearly as bad as Ms. Umbridge, something about Mr. Runcorn always chilled me. His chilly attitude towards me right now wasn't even the reason for that. "I was summoned here by the Senior Undersecretary. I'm merely waiting until she returns from other business."

He seemed to scowl at me, but his face seemed stuck in that position. "I'd be more careful whom you mouth off to, Colquhoun."

"I wasn't mouthing off, sir. You can ask her yourself when she gets here."

He continued to scowl, but bit back his retort when the squat form of Ms. Umbridge came around the bend. "Ah, Mr. Colquhoun. Very good. We'll get started right away." She turned to Mr. Runcorn. "Thank you, Albert. You may go."

He seemed slightly more cordial to her, as he slightly bowed respectfully. "Madam Undersecretary." He turned around and strode away, although he seemed to go at a clomp. Ms. Umbridge strode up to her door, and opened the door with a point of her wand. "If you would, Mr. Colquhoun…"

I nodded as I followed her into her office. Her office was just like her: painted pink, gaudily decorated, and far too saccharine to be welcoming. There were even plates and pictures of cats depicted on the walls flanking the desk, all mewing far too innocently to be settling.

Ms. Umbridge sat down at her desk and poured herself a cup of a reddish-coloured tea, and proceeded to apply two cups of cane sugar into it. Stirring the tea gently, she smiled as she seemed quite content in her seat. I once read a Muggle-story I found that had a woman in it that seemed to be a lot like Ms. Umbridge. I just hope I could keep my head after today.

"You may sit, Mr. Colquhoun." Placing her cup of tea down, she raised her wand—a rather short one I noticed—and summoned a chair for me. It wasn't quite as nice as hers, but still matched the decor of the room. As I sat down wordlessly into it, she placed her wand back in its place on the desk next to two perfectly lined pens, and returned to her tea. "Would you like a spot of tea, dear?"

I was startled by the question, and some instinct screamed at me to refuse. However, I had the feeling that she would insist and make life for me uncomfortable if I persisted. I remembered her reputation among the Improper Use of Magic office, the section of the Ministry she had direct control over. I stealthily reached into one of my pockets and pulled out something that I carried for small emergencies. "Thank you, Madam Undersecretary."

" _Ms. Umbridge_ will do for now."

"Very well, Ms. Umbridge."

She briefly looked away as she poured another cup, and I raised my hand, making a motion as if I was wiping my mouth, but I bit down on what was in my hand and quickly sucked it into my cheek as stealthily as possible. I then lowered my hand as she looked back up at me, offering me the cup. I took it, trying to stay as calm as possible. I took a sip of tea because I knew she was looking at me expectedly. Very carefully, I swallowed it, and made a note to monitor myself throughout this exchange.

"Well, dear, shall we get started then?"

I had taken another sip of tea—I needed to stay inconspicuous against my better judgment—before I could answer. "May I ask what?"

"I have some questions for you, Mr. Colquhoun. I understand it that you are a recent graduate of Hogwarts, am I correct?"

An innocent enough question, so why did it make me nervous? "Yes, Ms. Umbridge."

"Of Slytherin House, am I correct?"

"Yes, Ms. Umbridge."

She nodded every so slightly. "I thought as much. You have come highly recommended. So, tell me, Mr. Colquhoun. How would you rate your education at Hogwarts?"

The question was so odd that it threw me off, and I felt kind of flushed to answer. "I would say I did very well."

"I would expect that, but I'm interested to know more. If you wouldn't mind answering a couple more questions for me…"

"I can do that," I said automatically. That surprised me, in addition that it felt like it was getting hotter in here. Was it the warmth of the tea?

"Thank you, Mr. Colquhoun." Something about that gratitude didn't feel genuine, and I felt more flushed than ever. "There has been a turbulent tenure for the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher for several years, is that correct?"

There was that flush again, and the answer was right at my lips. "Yes, you can say that." I blinked. I felt like I was going to throw up.

"So, it is true that no teacher has stayed longer than a year, correct?"

Another flush. "Correct."

Ms. Umbridge made the smallest of chuckles, which sounded a little like a small hiccup. "It truly is a shame that such an important class is squandered on teachers not willing to enrich students with proper educations throughout the years. One would think that needs to be changed, do you agree?"

Once again, the flush came back, compelling me to say what was on my mind. My blood chilled as soon as I realized what was happening. I looked at the teacup, half-full of tea still. I had the suspicion that something was in the tea, hence the Mandrake leaf in my mouth. Mandrake leaves can delay poisons enough to seek proper antidotes, but it was never tested against Veritaserum. While I've never been under it before, the fluctuations of my inner temperatures every time I was asked a question, pushing me to speak the truth, it could only be that.

"Are you feel all right, dear? You don't look well." She smiled.

That confirmed it. She was digging for answers and I had fallen for it. I had to breathe; I couldn't panic. Otherwise, she could suspect that I knew. "Just a little under the weather. I imagine it will pass if I have more tea."

Ms. Umbridge regarded me silently, her face not moving a twitch. If there was a deity of the wizarding world, I'd be praying that Ms. Umbridge didn't see through me. While I certainly didn't lie, I had to concentrate enough to suppress the full truth. Veritaserum is a very powerful "truth serum" as they call it in the Muggle world, but not a hundred percent efficient. If one cleared one's mind enough and focus on what to say instead of getting too wound up, one could effectively fight the compulsions the Veritaserum was making.

Finally, she placed her cup down. "Lovely, dear. Thank you for your time and your visit. You were a great help to me, and I hope you continue to be so. You may go now. Don't worry about the tea."

The flushing was getting a little strong now, and I'm sure it was showing in my face at this point. "Thank you, Madame Undersecretary." I stood up and tried to keep my composure as I left the room. As soon as I left, I made my way back to my desk in the Improper Use of Magic office and quickly fished out a small clear flask. My father had given me this flask as soon as I started working here, and had filled it with an antidote that he said that I may need someday. Apparently, having a conversation with Ms. Umbridge and needing the antidote afterwards was something a little too normal. I took a drink of it and sat down, trying to relax. Soon enough, the flushes went away, and I felt normal again, although still a little shaken.

I busied myself with work, trying to not draw attention to myself. As I did, I thought about what just happened. I was mainly questioned on my time at Hogwarts, particularly about how things were there with education. As my mind raced to replay what I had just went through—I had no idea Veritaserum had a way of fogging up one's mind afterwards—I had to wonder what was she really after. What was the purpose of such a line of questioning?

Everything went breakneck from there. In the week to follow, I learned through the grapevine that Potter was initially expelled without any real hearing at first, but somehow that was rescinded, allowing a hearing after all, which resulted in an acquittal. I knew that the term was about to start again, and around the time it did, I found out the scariest revelation: Ms. Umbridge was to be the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. I had to wonder what arts got her that position but judging from the few exposures I've had with her, I dearly pitied anyone that was unfortunate to take her class.

Later that day, after I left for the day, I was feeling shaken. Something was very wrong, and this entire summer seemed like the entire world had gone crazy. With what happened during the Triwizard Tournament in addition to the near daily smearing of both Potter and Dumbledore, I couldn't help that even if Dumbledore was mistaken, the reaction by the Wizarding World seemed rather pretentious, even overdone. I was very new to the Ministry, but I couldn't help but wonder if I dug deep enough, I would find the truth behind everything.

Before the Hogwarts term started, but after my chat with Ms. Umbridge, I was able to secure a residence of my own in London, a short walk from the main entrance. It was a small flat, barely big enough for two, but it was within my budget. Once I secured my monthly rent, the first thing I did was enchant the entire flat with permanent Muggle-repelling spells in addition to sound silencing spells, linking the chimney to the Floo Network and everything else to prevent anyone from noticing any magic happenings. Apart from the Muggles asking questions, there were many others in the current climate that I didn't want to know where I was. I also had to "train" Lumi as it were to only deliver letters at night. Owls in the daytime are unusual to Muggles, and I didn't want to attract the least amount of attention.

A letter that arrived one night was from Oleg, and it had me nearly forget everything that was happening at the Ministry:

" _Dear Ewan, I need your help. My uncle had to go into hiding because Death Eaters have been spotted in Russia. He said that for both our safeties, we need to separate. The Death Eaters are looking for Durmstrang students specifically, and I need a place to hide. Please, you are my only hope."_

At once, I penned back.

" _Oleg, do exactly what I say. Apparate to just outside Hogsmeade, the far side away from the castle. I suggest you Apparate short distances to avoid_ _splinching_ _. I'll be waiting for you around six o'clock outside of town. Don't do anything rash. I don't want to lose you."_

It would take Lumi a day to find Oleg in Russia, but I knew he would. My instincts screamed that something was going to go wrong, and I know that I needed to be ready. The next day, I spent a lot of time fretting and it nearly hindered my work. When my time to leave had come, I left the Ministry as nonchalantly as I could; I didn't need the Ministry to tail me. Once I got out and found a secluded alleyway, I Apparated all the way to the outskirts of Hogsmeade, and I had forgotten how tiring that can be. Summer had not quite ended yet, and I was still in my work robes. The sun blistered down on me, despite the sun setting to the west. I should have changed first, but the entire day, I felt like something was going to go wrong.

The hour came and went, and there was no sign of Oleg. My fretting turned into outright anxiety. Something must have gone wrong; it had to. I'd Apparate all the way to Russia myself, but I had no idea what Oleg's house looked like. If I Apparated without knowing where I was going, it would be a disaster. Feeling helpless, I continued to wait. If I had to stay in Hogsmeade all night, I would.

Suddenly, a loud pop of Apparation shattered the silence of the twilight hours. I looked, and I saw Oleg several metres from me, and he slumped over as soon as he had arrived. Alarmed, I ran up to him. "Oleg!"

Oleg managed to look up at me, and he looked like he was in excruciating pain. "Ewan…I'm sorry…" He slumped to the ground.

"No, no, no!" I shouted. I managed to turn him over, and nearly lost my composure. A gouging wound had nearly split open his right side, and blood was pouring everywhere. I didn't think. I grabbed Oleg and Apparated both of us back to my flat. Not even thinking about the mess that would be left by the blood, I lay Oleg's unconscious form on the bed and immediately whipped out my wand. " _Diffindo_!" His bloody jumper split and I was able to pull off the remnants of it, and I saw the real damage of Oleg's wound. Whatever the spell was, it seemed to cleanly cleave a piece of flesh right out of Oleg's side. Trying to stave off panic, I thought back to a spell I overheard Madame Pomfrey back at Hogwarts used. I even remembered how she said it. Slowly waving the wand over the gouging wound, I started to say very slowly and monotonically, " _Vulnera Sanentur._ " I held my breath as the blood flow slowed substantially, but I couldn't stop now. " _Vulnera Sanentur._ " The wound began to look cleaner. " _Vulnera Sanentur._ " The wound finally started to knit itself shut.

I finally let out the breath that I didn't know I was holding, but I wasn't done yet. Dashing to the pantry, I found some dried dittany, I mixed it with water and ground it into a fine brown paste. I quickly wrapped it in a loose-knit poultice and took it back to Oleg's side. " _Epoximise!_ " I said as I pointed my wand at the poultice and pushed it against Oleg's wounded side.

Oleg moaned, and I nearly jumped. He was coming around. "Don't move," I commanded. "You're safe now."

Oleg opened his eyes weakly. "Ewan?"

"Shh," I soothed. "Try to sleep. I've got you."

Oleg didn't seem to have the energy for anything else and was soon unconscious again. I sighed, finally relaxing. Had I been slower or messed up anything during the process, Oleg might not have survived. I may have been skilled at magic, but sometimes, thanking something beyond magic was gratifying somehow.

Oleg slept throughout the night and I stayed up, ever alert of Oleg in case he took a turn for the worse. My mind flashed to brewing a Draught of Peace, but in my anxious state, I'd rather not risk making a mistake in brewing it. I also told myself that depending on magic or potions wouldn't help anything. That being said, I never knew that nights were so long.

Oleg came back to shortly after sunrise. I was close to dozing off beside the bed, but when I saw his breathing grow faster, any fatigue I had evaporated into the sunlight. "Hey, you made it through the night," I said. "Looks like you're going to be ok."

Oleg seemed out of it, and I couldn't blame him. He looked like he had just gone through a round of N.E.W.T.'s. Blinking slowly, he tried to focus on me. "Ewan?" He blinked a couple more times. "Where am I?"

"My place," I said. "You fainted from blood loss and I patched you up the best I can."

Oleg's brow furrowed in confusion, but then he looked down at his bare chest and found a poultice seemingly stuck to his right side. Initially surprised, he relaxed a bit as his mind started to catch up. He then looked mournful. "I am sorry, my friend…"

I was confused at the sentiment. "Why?"

"I was hoping to get away from Death Eaters sooner, but I was lured away and distracted. When I found out it was trap, I did what you had said."

"The Death Eaters found you?" I said, trying to remain calm.

"Yes. I do not know how, but they seek Durmstrang graduates. I do not know how many they have turned or—"

"What about Viktor?" I asked. It was a question for my curiosity, and Viktor seemed a decent sort despite having a head filled with sawdust on occasion.

"I do not know. He was leaving back to Hungary after we returned."

"Then he may have avoided them then, but that's all speculation."

"We were not followed?"

"I doubt it. As soon as you passed out, I Apparated us here. Unless they've infiltrated the Ministry—which admittedly is a possibility—then I wish them the best of luck to try."

Oleg looked confused. "Why would you wish them luck?"

I smiled. "I don't. That was sarcasm. Sorry, I keep forgetting you're not quite adept with the nuances of the English language. It's sometimes hard for we native speakers."

Oleg seemed to understand and looked at his injured side. "Was it bad?"

"It seemed to be," I admitted. "Honestly, I would have taken you to St. Mungo's if I wasn't able to do anything, but I don't know that after my attempts, I might not have gotten you there in time. Thankfully, I knew enough."

Oleg smiled. "Thank you…for saving my life."

"I was happy to, although I hope you don't make a habit of needing me to do so."

Oleg nodded, and he tried to sit up.

"I'd not try that just yet," I said as I stood up. I took out my wand again and aimed it at the soiled poultice. " _Finite_." The poultice tumbled right off, and I saw a fading wound now revealed. "Pardon me," I said as I applied some light pressure to the closed wound. Oleg winced, and I immediately withdrew my hand. "I thought as much. My spells stopped the bleeding, but they didn't quite repair the damage underneath. I don't know what caused your wound, but it was bad. It looks like something ripped a chunk out of—" I stopped myself. I realized what had happened. "Oleg, how far did you Apparate when you found me?"

Oleg looked down. "I am sorry…"

That confirmed it. "You Apparated all the way from Russia, didn't you?"

Oleg looked tearful, as if his guilt hurt worse than the wound. Truth be told, I was incensed. Possible legal complications notwithstanding, Apparition was dangerous enough by itself because spinching was a common complication of improper Apparition, and Apparating very long distances magnified the danger. "You're lucky you didn't die!" I said, harsher than I intended.

"I know," he said, properly admonished.

"You could've—" I stopped myself. Yelling wasn't going to help anything, and Oleg was already sorry. I had no place to make him feel worse. "I'm sorry; it's just that you not only could've died, you probably _did_ break international wizarding law. All I can hope is that it wasn't Traced properly by the Ministry."

"Could they?"

"Very likely. Wizarding law here is strictly enforced, albeit probably overmuch lately. Just a couple of weeks ago, Harry Potter himself was nearly expelled from Hogwarts for using a Patronus Charm. I don't know why he would, or even why such a quick expulsion, but it was reversed and now things have taken quite a dark turn here in London."

"What do you mean?"

I reached over for an old copy of the Daily Prophet and showed him the articles depicting malicious attacks on Potter's and Dumbledore's character. Oleg took the paper and looked it over as I said, "It's been going on all summer."

"Is this about what has happened at Triwizard Tournament?"

"About You-Know-Who coming back and at large? Yes."

"There isn't any proof?"

"Nothing but Potter's word, like I said a few months ago, but Dumbledore believes him, and I'm still unsure if I do. Still, this reaction by the Daily Prophet is a lot like grandstanding. It's just…overdone."

"So, you do not believe this?"

"Well, to paraphrase an old poet, 'methinks the Ministry doth protest too much'. It's just such an overreaction. If there was a proper counterargument to You-Know-Who's return, it wouldn't be so base as to attack someone's credibility. There'd be inquires, investigations and the typical political bullocks that everything is all right. I can tell you right now as a Ministry employee that there hasn't been any of the first two and the third is just louder than usual."

Oleg digested what I said. "You mean that You-Know-Who is back then?"

"Again, I don't know what to believe, Oleg," I said. "But the behaviour of the Ministry is so off-kilter that I'm slow to believe them. Dumbledore has by all appearances taking this mudslinging with grace, and I imagine Potter is just buggered."

Oleg looked concerned. "What are we going to do?"

"We can't do anything right now, but after what you told me, you need to lay low for a while. You need to stay in bed until your injuries are healed. Since you got splinched, this could take a while depending on what you lost. Let's just hope that whatever you lost, you didn't leave anything important behind, if you know what I mean. I'd even go so far as you're going to have to go without magic for a while so you don't exert yourself." When I said that, I then realized something was amiss. "Wait a minute, where _is_ your wand?"

Oleg looked sad again. "When I was fighting Death Eaters, one of them cast a curse, and it shattered my wand. I panicked, and the next thing I knew, I was in front of you."

My eyes nearly fell out of my head. "You Apparated without your wand? Don't you realize how difficult that is?" I wasn't angry, but serious. Oleg didn't seem keen on just what he did, so I continued to explain. "Apparation is difficult on its own, but to do it without a wand? I haven't heard of that, but I would imagine it takes immense magical talent. Sounds like you're no ordinary wizard, Oleg."

Oleg wasn't sure what to make of what I said, but still seemed lost without a wand. "What do I do?"

"The natural thing is to get a replacement. I don't know whom you went to back in Russia, but we have an excellent wandmaker here in London. Once you're well enough, we can go. Don't worry if you have money. I've been saving up for a rainy day, so to speak since they literally happen all the time here."

Oleg seemed to relax. "Thank you."

"That being said, you need to stay in bed until your internal injuries heal, and you need to let me know if you feel worse in any shape or form, because that could mean that I didn't properly fix the injury. Once you are well enough, then we can get you a new wand."

"I understand," Oleg said.

"Good." I relaxed, and I then realized that this was the first time I saw Oleg without a shirt on and actually recognizing the fact he was bare-chested. Clearing my throat, I then smiled, "Well, I'm sad to say that you have a scar that has forever marked your…admittedly fine architecture, and I'm sorry I couldn't return your body to its beautiful self."

Oleg had to laugh, but it hurt a little bit. "Please do not be making me laugh."

"Sorry, but perhaps this will make you feel a little better." I leaned over and planted a kiss on his lips, ignoring how cracked they were from dehydration. Oleg joyously returned the kiss. We reluctantly pulled away from each other. "That's the best I can do for now, sadly."

Oleg looked like he was going to pout.

"Well, you can get started on this." I flicked my wand towards the kitchen. " _Accio_." A glass flew from the kitchen to my waiting hand, and then I pointed the wand into the glass. " _Aquamenti_." A weak jet of water filled the glass, and then I handed the filled glass to Oleg. "Drink up. You're dehydrated from blood loss and this will help restore your lost blood."

Oleg obediently took a drink. "Maybe I am feeling sick, but this is best water I have ever had."

"Magical water." I smiled as I stood up. "Does its job every time. Get some rest. I'm going to send word to the Ministry that I'm calling in a sick day. You're to stay in bed for all reasons except go to the loo. Do you understand?"

Oleg seemed to get exasperated. "I understand, Ewan."

The tone wasn't lost on me. "Move from that bed and no kisses for a fortnight."

Oleg finally relented. "Very well then."

The threat might as well of have happened, because Oleg wasn't feeling up to get out for about a fortnight, although he made slow progress being able to walk without pain. I made sure to keep healing and pain-relieving potions readily available. While Oleg healed, I worked at the Ministry and I could see that things were getting out of hand. During that time, Ms. Umbridge was promoted to High Inquisitor of Hogwarts, granted the power to dismiss poor-performing teachers and then some. I had to wonder what her definition of "poor-performing" was, because I certainly didn't hold her teaching abilities in high esteem. Not that I personally knew, but even instincts couldn't be always wrong.

During that time, an increase in mysterious disappearances were taking place and they were quickly blamed on Sirius Black, the escapee from Azkaban two years ago. In retrospect, Black was a loyal follower of You-Know-Who and his escape was still one of the most disturbing mysteries, but on the other hand, the Prophet was very quick to cast blame on him.

It was closing in on October when Oleg was healthy enough to stand up on his own without pain, and I was glad to see that no lasting damage was made from his emergency Apparition. When he was finally healthy, the first thing we did was take a weekend trip to Diagon Alley to get some supplies. He had to leave everything behind, and he couldn't risk going back should the Death Eaters be waiting for him. While it was likely they moved on by this time, there was no telling what was going on back in Russia. The Daily Prophet was consumed with libel against two certain wizards that it scarcely made room for anything else. After picking up some spare robes, clothing and other essentials, we finally arrived at Ollivander's to replace Oleg's broken—albeit lost as well—wand. When I stepped in, Mr. Ollivander wasn't immediately visible.

"Is he not here?" Oleg asked, worried.

"Oh, he's here, I'm sure. He's—" Suddenly, Mr. Ollivander seemingly rematerialized from the back, obviously having heard the door. He was older than I remembered, but that's what happens after seven years. "—right there."

Mr. Ollivander looked weary, but he still seemed to have a spark to him. "Mr. Colquhoun, I remember you. Rather, I remember your wand." He smiled warmly.

I turned to Oleg. "He remembers every single wand he has ever sold," I explained to him before turning back to Mr. Ollivander. "Which I still maintain is an amazing memory."

"You're too kind, Mr. Colquhoun. Even more significant considering you herald from Slytherin."

It was a compliment, albeit somewhat backhanded due to Slytherin's reputation and the current political climate. "Well, my mother and father taught me how to be respectable, regardless of my house."

"I remember their wands as well, and your family is a noble one for rearing such a son. What brings you to my shop today?" He then frowned. "You can't say that your wand is broken or lost."

"Not mine, master wandmaker," I said. "But my partner here can't say the same."

Oleg politely bowed. "I am Oleg Mikhailov of Durmstrang. I am humbled to meet you."

Mr. Ollivander nodded a bow in return. "You are definitely a polite young man, and in good company, although I'm under the belief that the students of Durmstrang get their wands from the wandmaker Gregorovitch."

I looked at Oleg and held a finger up, letting him know to leave the talking to me. I knew the name because Gregorovitch was also the proprietor of a wand shop somewhere else off Diagon Alley, a branch of Gregorovitch's main wand shop somewhere else in Europe. I also knew that it was in direct competition of Ollivander's and that they didn't agree largely on the nuances of wandlore. "That may have been, but he's of age now having graduated from Durmstrang. He's since moved to London for reasons but he needs a new wand. I recommended you."

Mr. Ollivander looked amused. "There's no need for the theatrics, Mr. Colquhoun." He turned to Oleg. "Welcome to London, Mr. Mikhailov. Step over here so that we may select your new wand. I promise you that it will serve you well, perhaps better than your last one."

I kept my thoughts to myself as Oleg stepped over to the desk. Mr. Ollivander may have been old, but his wit was still as sharp as ever. I remembered when I accidentally set his desk on fire with a wand that would not be mine. After banishing the flames, he simply responded nonchalantly with "Evidently not."

I watched as Oleg went through twenty or so wands until one finally responded to him. I watched with nostalgia as it felt like a moment of empowering seemed to wash over him. I smiled; I remembered the exact feeling when I held the wand that did become mine. It was that moment of fulfillment, and he was feeling it again. The wand had chosen him.

Ollivander looked at me strangely, just like he did when he sold me my wand. "Curious, indeed. And so it is."

I didn't ask then, but now I had to ask. "Mr. Ollivander, you looked at me that same exact way when I got my wand. You look at me that same way now. What are you not telling me?"

"Yes," Mr. Ollivander nodded. "It's time I explained. May I see your wand?"

The request struck me as odd, but I obeyed. "Of course." I withdrew my wand, turned it around in my hands and handed it handle first towards Mr. Ollivander.

Mr. Ollivander took it delicately from me, looked it over, and his eyes looked it over with nostalgia. "Yes, indeed. Yew wood, eleven and three-quarters inches…" He tested the rigidity of it in his hands. "Slightly springy." He then held it to his ear. "Dragon heartstring. Yes, indeed. It's all coming together."

"What is?"

He ignored me but turned to Oleg. "Mr. Mikhailov, if I may?"

"Yes, sir," he said, and handed back the wand, although I could tell he was a little reluctant.

"Thank you. Now, both of you, come to me."

We both came to him and he set both wands next to each other. "Tell me, Mr. Colquhoun. Do you see anything?"

I looked at the two wands. Oleg's was slightly shorter than mine, by about a half-inch I'd say. My wand had a twisted, dark tan handle with a smooth, lighter-coloured shaft; Oleg's had a smooth shaft, but a notched handle, all the same lighter colour, unlike the changing color of my wand. From what I can tell, they were as different as apples and oranges were to each other. "Should I?" I asked as I looked back up at him.

"As you've said, I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Colquhoun. These two wands seem as different as different can be, but they _do_ share a bond. Your wand has a dragon heartstring core, while Mr. Mikhailov's new wand will have unicorn hair. The lengths are different as their flexibility differs as well, but the wood is the same. These are both yew wood, and not only yew wood, but yew wood from the same tree."

My eyebrows rose. "That's fascinating, but how is that significant exactly?"

Mr. Ollivander smiled slightly. "I've made wands for longer than either of you have been alive, respectfully, and I've sold countless wands, but I remember every single one. I've sold wands that share the same cores, or the wood has come from the same tree. Every time that has happened, I've learned that those who wield those wands are tied together, for good or ill. Even if they were sold decades apart, they would meet again. Today, these two brothers have met again. Time will only tell what that will mean."

I had no knowledge of wandlore, and my mind was quick to make the excuse that this was coincidence, but it made too much sense. My mind flashed back to when I purchased my wand. "You knew, even back then when I got this wand."

Mr. Ollivander nodded. "In a sense. While I had no idea how they would meet, I did know that as long as you were alive that if I sold _this_ wand—" He motioned to Oleg's. "—to any other, that they would meet again. As I've said, time will tell what it means."

I looked at Oleg, and Oleg looked just as mystified as I was.

We purchased the wand and made our way back home through the Floo Network through a chimney at the Leaky Cauldron, silent as both of us were lost in thought. Once we arrived at home, the erumpent in the room was finally addressed. Oleg asked the lingering question, "What is he meaning by what he said?"

I looked at him, and I realized that the entire time between Mr. Ollivander's shop and arriving here, I never put my wand away and was now looking over it as I had just rediscovered it. "I'm not sure. I know better than to question him though; he's the best wandmaker I know, and he's been making wands for decades. My father and mother even got their wands from him before their own tenure at Hogwarts."

"But what does it mean?"

"I can't say, Oleg. He mentioned that this kind of phenomenon seems to infer some kind of bond between the wands. That could mean anything, but with the way things are looking lately, it might not even be a good thing."

Oleg looked at his new wand and looked rather tortured. "I wish I had my—"

"Shh," I cut him off, not harshly but assuredly. I knew what he was going to say. "The wand chose you, and that means this is the best wand for you. You can't change it as much as you could change the entire perception of the world about magic. Besides, I have found that it's a complete waste of time wishing that things were different."

Oleg looked at me strangely, unsure if he should feel assured or not.

"Do you know how many times I wished I wasn't sorted into Slytherin House? You've seen the ilk I've had to deal with, and I had to deal with it for seven years. It's a waste of time wishing for a change on something that already happened, but what we _can_ do is deal with what has happened and learn from it." I placed a hand on his cheek. "One thing I've noticed about Muggle and wizardkind alike is that we seem to always wish for something different. Sure, we have the ability to create change, but we can't change what happened and expect a magic fix."

Oleg seemed to relax. "Okay." He smiled. "What would I be doing without you?"

I smiled. "We can't wonder what would happen either. That's also a waste of time. Now, finding out what _will_ happen, on the other hand…"

Oleg took the hint and pressed his lips against mine. We kissed for a while, wands and destiny forgotten. What happened next? Well, that's between us.

XXXXXXXXXX

The rest of the year was fraught with deception and fear—none between Oleg and I for we were quite the loving couple—spread by the Ministry and the Prophet, and my work were dominated by what was "officially" happening. Going to work became a slog as all I can hear was what was happening at Hogwarts, and reports of disappearances plagued the Ministry. False alarms and hysteric witches and wizards plagued my desk, and it was difficult to handle the peace, despite the reassurances of the Ministry. As the months progressed, faith within the Ministry began to wane, and Minister Fudge seemed to grow more and more unstable. He continued to blame new disappearances on Sirius Black, despite the fact that reports of him have more or less vanished since his escape from Hogwarts almost two years prior. As for Hogwarts, it was virtually unrecognizable if the Prophet was to be believed. I could only imagine what was going on inside the walls.

The new year came, and the news continued to darken. My father confided in me that the Ministry was getting more and more unhinged. It all seemed to come crashing down when a mass escape occurred at Azkaban, and the prisoners that did escape were among the worst. One in particular caused chills to run down my spines: one Bellatrix LeStrange. Her picture in the Prophet was bad enough, but she was one of You-Know-Who's most loyal followers. She was one of the very few that after You-Know-Who's downfall that never switched her allegiances. She was responsible for the deaths and tortures of many witches and wizards, most notably the traumatizing tortures of the Aurors Longbottom via the Cruciatus Curse.

Once again, it was all blamed on Sirius Black, but the lies were becoming more and more transparent. None dared voice it, but sentiment that the Ministry knew more about what was going on was growing. The lies were breaking down, and for the first time, I began to really believe that Dumbledore last year was right.

In response to everything that was happening, Oleg and I scheduled regular times to practise offensive and defensive magic. Oleg learned fast, his new wand over the months proving to be an amazing teammate for him. We particularly practised wordless spells, which was something strongly taught in my sixth year. Every week we Apparated to an open field, far away from Muggle villages to practise, but not before I cast every spell I knew to keep us hidden. I didn't want anyone, Muggle or wizard, to stumble upon on by happenstance.

Other times I began to push my magical skills by creating new spells, in addition to boosting the power of the rest of my spells in my arsenal. At some point, I spoke to my mother about everything, and she felt much of the same how I felt about everything. After dinner at one point, she gave me a small grimoire, and told me to guard it with all the power I could muster. Arriving back at my flat that night, Oleg and I discovered that it was a list of more spells, some having unfathomable potential. One spell in particular—called " _Gurges Aternum_ "—sounded particularly powerful. It was one of the only spells to not have directions to cast, but it did have an addendum: "Use only in extreme emergencies." Whatever my mother created, it was powerful enough to merit a heavy disclaimer.

Month after month, we practised our battling spells while the Wizarding World seemed to crumble around us, and all the Prophet could do was offer platitudes. Every day, it seemed to get worse…until one fateful night in June. It was before dawn, when I got a Patronus waking Oleg and me up saying that I needed to come to the Ministry at once: the Trace had picked up alarming amounts of underage magic inside the Ministry itself. I quickly got dressed and took a Floo jump straight to the Ministry. When I arrived, I knew at once something was wrong. There were crowds of witches and wizards, and I could see the flashes of cameras. I couldn't even get through the crowd, but I tried to peer over them to no avail.

"What happened?" I asked a nearby witch. "What's going on?"

"You didn't hear?" She looked like she was about to go into a dead faint. "It's _him_! _He's_ back!"

"Who is?" I asked, but I felt my stomach turn into stone.

"You-Know-Who!" she hissed.

At first, I thought she expected me to guess, but just as fast, I understood. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned? My mouth went dry. "I need to go." I turned and strode for the nearest Floo-chimney. Grabbing some Floo powder—and ignoring how much I spilt—I jumped right into the chimney. "My flat!" A flash of green fire took me away and I reappeared back in my flat, a shocked Oleg was the first thing I saw.

"What is it?" he said.

I tried to calm down, but I found that I was unable to. "He's back. You-Know-Who. He was at the Ministry."

Oleg dropped the book he was reading and paled even further than his complexion. "He's back?"

"Yes. I arrived at the Ministry early today, and he was there. I didn't see him myself, but others did, but I can tell they didn't lie. He's back."

Oleg looked fearful. "What do we do?"

I was still in shock from having what I had entertained was the truth affirmed for the first time. What _do_ we do? For all intents and purposes, we were not prepared for the second coming of one of the most powerful dark wizards this century. You-Know-Who was next to invincible it seems, and he even cheated death itself somehow, which made the news of his return all the more terrifying. Even worse, he was still at large. War was coming, and if You-Know-Who was wise, he wouldn't make the same mistake as last time: underestimate the enemy.

My mind raced each scenario, and it all spelled out that ultimately, I would have to fight. The big question was where and how. Running away would soon not be an option, especially if You-Know-Who somehow overthrew the Ministry, and it wasn't a stretch considering that he would try. Suspect people were already in the Ministry; it would be child's play for him. There was no trusting the Ministry to protect us against You-Know-Who and his inevitable army of Death Eaters and Merlin-knows-what. That left only one option.

My face hardened. "We prepare. I don't think the Ministry will be of any use to us after this last year, and we need to get ready."

Oleg looked nervous. "Is that all we can do?"

I shook my head. "Even if there was, it would only delay the inevitable. After what happened nearly twenty years ago, I feel like this will be worse and we need to be there when it all goes down." I looked around my flat. "We may need to even prepare to leave at a moment's notice. Disappearances have already begun, and I have no doubt now that he's responsible, and the Ministry's attempt to cover things up has only weakened the state even more. If we have any chance, we may need to fight as if our lives depended on it." I looked regretful. "I'm not going to ask you to stay and fight if you aren't comfortable." I had to look away. "I won't force you to do anything that you're not comfortable with."

"Stop." Oleg stood up as I looked back at him. "I understand. I am not going anywhere. I am not wanting you to fight alone. I am with you."

I had to really control myself to make sure I didn't start crying. I didn't deserve Oleg at all, I felt. "I'm not forcing you to stay."

"I know," Oleg said, smiling. "But I am not leaving."

I smiled slightly. "Thank you. It means a lot to hear that, but I swear I'm not about to go looking for trouble. We will be careful, I promise."

"We will have to be," Oleg said. "I cannot lose you."

"Nor I you," I said, placing a hand on Oleg's cheek. "You gave my life purpose, and no dark wizard is going to take you away from me, not if I can help it."

Oleg nodded, and words were no longer needed as we kissed. As the year passed, Oleg had always been in my flat, even though he never officially moved in, but it was just right. It was hard sometimes trying to earn enough for two people, but I was happy to do it. Before today, I entertained the idea of recruiting Oleg for a job at the Ministry, but I was always hesitant because of the atmosphere before. It certainly wasn't happening now since he had escaped Death Eaters only last year. They still might be looking for him, and likely don't know the connection between himself and myself, and I couldn't risk that being exposed, especially now.

After we separated from our kiss, Oleg looked at me. "So what do you have in mind?"

Truth be told, I wasn't sure what I had in mind. It wasn't exactly protocol to prepare for what seemed to be the end of current magical civilization, but by Merlin's beard I wasn't about to just sit by and let it come washing over me like some Obliviated Muggle.

"I think it's time to find a place to practise our defensive spells again." I looked back at the fireplace. "As much as I don't want to go, I should head back to the Ministry. There's going to be quite the reckoning and I need to be there. Once I find a good place and have an idea what to expect for the Ministry, I'll let you know."

"How?"

"Owls maybe swamped at this point, and I don't want to subject poor Lumi to exhaustion." I tapped my wand thoughtfully. "I think I have an idea." I strode for the study and withdrew the cover. I found a rather nondescript jotter. I picked it up and looked it over. For all intents and purposes, it was just an ordinary jotter, but perhaps with the right charm…

I placed the jotter back down on the desk and pointed my wand at it. I kept a clear mind as I focused on exactly what I wanted. With a quick flick, I uttered the spell, " _Geminio_." The jotter flipped towards the left side of the desk, but at the same time, an identical copy of it seemingly split away from the original jotter, only it flew to the right.

Once the cloned jotters rested, I reached for a pencil and wrote down the words " _Hogwarts is the best school_ " on the left one and closed the jotter. I then opened the copy on the right. I smiled as I saw the same words written in the same handwriting as if I wrote them there myself—in a way I did but that's neither here or there. "Ok," I said as I picked up the cloned jotters, "here's the plan: I will take one of these with me, while you keep the other one." I handed Oleg the cloned jotter. "We should be able to instantly talk to each other with these, but we need to be discreet. Anyone can use this, so it's imperative we use these wisely.

Oleg opened the jotter and read the contents, and then looked strangely at me. "Is that what you think?"

"I didn't make the rules, Oleg," I said, smiling slightly. "You'll just have to deal with it."

Oleg shook his head and sobered up. "I promise that I will be careful."

"No need to stand on ceremony," I said. "I know that you will." I put my jotter into my satchel. "I'd best be going. The Ministry may not be missing me at the moment, but I imagine there's going to be a lot of damage control, so my office will be busy."

"You are probably right." Oleg looked apprehensive. "Be careful, Ewan."

"I will. I will let you know if I find out anything. For now, don't leave the flat."

Oleg nodded as I stepped into the fireplace, reaching for a small handful of Floo Powder. "I will be back tonight, and we'll talk about how to prepare for the worst."

Oleg nodded again.

I cleared my throat—I may need to clean the fireplace soon—and said clearly. "The Ministry of Magic!" and threw down the Floo Powder. As I shot through the Floo Network back to the Ministry, I didn't realize just how much things were going to get worse, or how fast.

XXXXXXXXXX

The summer of 1996 was likely the most unrestful summer I have ever experienced. The Ministry, despite all its bluster, was unraveling at the seams. Minister Fudge could not shake off the events of last year as it came to light that he not only had been warned about this, but also took active steps to discredit the source of the truth. It came of no surprise that the Minister was pressured to resign, but it was still reeling how fast the magical public turned on him. He was basically out of office within a fortnight. He was succeeded by one Rufus Scrimgeour, and after witnessing his induction, I can't say it was an improvement. I watched appalled as it became the mission of the Ministry to create the illusion of safety while You-Know-Who ran practically unchecked in the shadows.

As the summer drew on, I was beginning to wonder if the collective Ministry had lost its mind. Despite the atrocities committed by Ms. Umbridge at Hogwarts—who had Dumbledore to thank for her rescue from a herd of centaurs—Umbridge served a very short suspension, and basically was handed the position of Undersecretary by Scrimgeour. I began to question further tenure at the Ministry, but I knew that if I really wanted the truth, I would have to keep gleaning through the lies spewed here so I could properly prepare. I kept my head down, but it was certainly not easy as the summer dragged on.

Before all that even, the Death Eaters were clearly getting bolder. Two bridges in London, the Millennium and Brockdale Bridges, were destroyed by Death Eaters. The Muggles were likely still trying to find all the poor Muggles that perished. Closer to home, Mr. Ollivander disappeared, and Ms. Bones was murdered. I rarely spoke to her, but I knew that she was a voice of reason during Former Minister Fudge's deluded campaign against Potter, particularly during a full trial that was convened in front of the entire Wizengamot that sought to expel Potter from Hogwarts last year. My father and I would have plenty of private conversations about what should we do if the worst should befall us. He suspected that instead of facing the problem, the new Minister was basically inviting the Death Eaters to infiltrate the Ministry and it was only a matter of time before You-Know-Who would basically walk in and take over, and that there was nothing that really could be done now to stop it. When I asked what we should do if that happens, all he said was "Run and don't look back."

The Daily Prophet, despite the dismal news practically blanketing every page, I did start seeing a few suggestive articles around Potter, and they were all practically the same: suggesting that he was the "Chosen One." The Minister even seemed hellbent on recruiting Potter to "support the Ministry" to keep up the illusion that everything was ok. I didn't know what was worse; the sheer gall of the Minister for trying to keep up the illusion, or that everything was so desperate that we were going to create a Messianic figure in Potter. He hadn't even graduated from Hogwarts yet, and he likely felt that there was already a target on his back. This wasn't helping him at all. It was still a mystery how Voldemort even returned, let alone how Potter himself survived taking a blast from the Killing Curse to the head.

As the summer began to wane, it was pretty evident that despite the assurances from the new Minister, the morale was sinking ever lower as each day passed. I tried not to let it get to me, but a few times, it did. Just a few days before September, Oleg caught me in a rather despondent mood back at the flat.

"Are you all right?"

I looked up from a bowl of porridge that I was barely eating. "Oh, uh, yeah."

Oleg looked skeptical.

I sighed. I wasn't trying to pull one over on Oleg; I just didn't want to risk slipping because the times we were living in were wearing down on me and I was just barely holding it together. "I'm just feeling the strain of everything. I just feel like I'm on a sinking ship and I'm the only one really able to get away. Everything going on is wearing me down."

Oleg nodded and reached out for my hand, grasping it. "We are going to be all right. You are always telling me that and I am believing you."

That dragged out a smile from me. "Thank you, Oleg. I guess because I've been telling so many other people that I really haven't kept that same hope for myself, and it's barely begun."

Oleg understood. "Do you still want to practise our defensive spells tonight?"

"Yeah, we can't really afford to fall out of practise, even for only one occasion. The Death Eaters won't be shy using sinister spells against their targets, so we will need to stay vigilant."

Oleg nodded. "Very well."

Earlier in the summer, I had located an abandoned warehouse in the Harringay Warehouse District in North London as I scouted for safe places to practise our spells, somewhere where we could Apparate to and fro without exhausting ourselves. I went back in the dead of night and placed protective and repelling spells around the area to dissuade curious investigators. Once those were in place, Oleg and I would Apparate here twice or thrice a week to practise spells as opposed to our previous location. After You-Know-Who had been revealed to really be back, we took to taking more measures to remain hidden as we practised our spells.

Oleg and I would take turn practicing offensive spells of varying form all the while we tested the limitations of our Shield Charms. Over trial and error, we discovered which spells we were particularly good at, as well as just how fast we can lower and raise shields to deliver retaliatory spells. While we were able to boost the efficiency of our Shield Charms, one thing I noted was that we weren't able to test how many spells we could deflect unfriendly spells with the same charm. That would require more than one attacker and that was something I wasn't willing to risk.

Other times we would test out various spells. I kept my Charms books from all seven years at Hogwarts in the event I needed to review, in addition to the grimoire my mother entrusted to me. As I've said, most of the spells she recorded were quite intricate and it took a lot of effort for either of us to use them properly. Besides the one we saw that had a disclaimer to only use in extreme emergencies, we had found _Fulgura Maxima_ —it casts a lightning burst so powerful that it nearly blew out the opposite wall— _Impetus Tempestum_ —a whirlwind of varying strength—and _Crepitus Igno_ —similar to _Confringo_ but more widespread—to name a few. I knew my mother was quite the dabbler for magic, but I was surprised at the force of these spells. I was able to invent a couple of my own, which I added to the grimoire. Two I created was a time-stop charm— _Tempus Nullum_ —and an Anti-Magic Ward over a small area— _Maleficus Nullum_. The tricky thing about the final spell of those two was that it not only prohibited any spellcasting, no matter the strength, of my enemies but also my own. It left us safe from all magic, but completely vulnerable to physical harm. The effects were temporary, unless I paired it with _Fianto Duri_. Only an overpowering use of _Finite Incantatum_ from someone outside the ward can banish the ward. It took Oleg several minutes to do that when I tested it. We didn't know how effective it would be against Death Eaters, or even if it was a good idea, but after everything that has happened these past two years, I knew that I had to take all precautions.

It was a good thing too as summer ended and a dreary autumn began. Morale continued to wane, although I did find a small piece of consolation: Lucius Malfoy, the father of the upstart Draco, was sent to Azkaban for being a Death Eater, at the testimony of several who witnessed him accosting Potter and his friends in the Department of Mysteries earlier in the year. While I didn't wish Azkaban on anyone, having his slimy influence removed from the Ministry was a welcome change. Sadly, it was the only change that seemed beneficial. As the year waned, the Ministry seemed steadfast in its façade, and I knew it was only a matter of time before everything went to hell.

Despite the practises Oleg and I had, something felt that we just weren't ready. How could anyone be ready for anything of this magnitude honestly? I felt like despite the spells I learned and the amount of practise I've had, it wasn't even close to being enough. I felt myself losing sleep over it; at times while Oleg slept blissfully unaware of my inner turmoil, I was staring into the looking glass in the loo contemplating the future and seeing my own turmoil mock me in the face. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't be complacent. I needed to prepare more, continue to find new ways to fight…

…I need more power. Power is what I need to do what I must: protect myself, protect Oleg, protect my future and to curse any fool who dared ruin it all. I need more power…

It was then I started to feel cold, as if a fire was dying within me and was being replaced with something else like a cold raging storm, but somehow, I felt hollow inside. Despite how alien it felt, there was something else behind it, like a wellspring of power just outside of my reach. I wanted it, I needed it…

" _You feel it, do you not?"_

I looked up and saw only myself in the looking glass. Who was that? I looked around and saw no one. The feeling I felt before I heard that voice was still there but was in turmoil, like a blazing fire battling a maelstrom of winter winds.

" _I can feel your lust for power, Ewan Colquhoun, and I have seen your fears."_

I heard something dripping into the sink, and I looked down to see several blood drips pooling in the basin of the sink. I never admitted this to anyone, but I'm what Muggles call a hemophobe. I struggle with the sight of blood. A boggart I faced in Defence Against the Dark Arts was myself, bleeding out from my mouth, my nose and multiple wounds. When I found Oleg injured as bad as he was, it took every single bit of my strength to keep myself from getting unnerved because of all the blood. Why was blood in the sink? I looked up and saw my reflection and saw a gushing nosebleed. I was so startled that I turned away and wiped my nose automatically, but when I removed my hand, there was no blood. My nose was as dry as it normally is. What was going on?

" _Fearful of being inadequate, fearful of failure, fearful of letting people close to you die."_

That voice droned on and on, hypnotically and invitingly. I've never heard of such a voice, but an instinct was beginning to make itself known through the noise that I should fear it.

" _There is only one way to save them…"_

The voice sounded like it was coming from the looking glass. When I turned to look, I nearly cried out in terror as the face looking back at me wasn't mine; it was a pale face, nearly completely white, no nose except for two slits like a snake's, but I couldn't look away from the red slit eyes that stared right through me.

Voldemort.

" _And that is to join me at my side,"_ Voldemort said to me from the looking glass, smiling ever so slightly.

" _ **REDUCTO!**_ " I screamed out as I nearly threw my wand at the reflection. A blast from my wand vaporized the looking glass and the wall behind it, but also sent me into the opposite wall. The back of my head smacked hard against the wall, but I thought I heard a cruel laughter in the back of my head as I slid down. I still can't recall what happened between what I saw and when Oleg came into the loo, likely awakened by the blast.

"Ewan!" he exclaimed, and he was at my side. I was too dazed to perceive him at that moment, but I felt the sensation of being shaken awake. "Ewan, wake up!" He continued to shake me.

Finally, I came to enough to realize he was there. "O-Oleg?"

"Are you all right?" he asked.

Honestly, I didn't feel all right. I felt like I was going to throw up at any minute. "I feel really bad…," I said slowly, becoming aware of something wet and sticky on the back of my head. Reaching up, I felt something warm and oozy and my head stung from the touch. Pulling it away, I saw a little bit of blood on my hand.

Oleg winced. "You're hurt…"

I looked up at him. "Yeah…do you have your wand?"

"U-uh, it is in bedroom."

"Go get it. I need you to clean the wound, so we can dress it. Also, grab a small handful of dittany."

Oleg nodded and disappeared out of the room. I shimmied forward and opened up the cupboard beneath the sink. I located a green satchel-like case with a first-aid symbol on it. I had to hand it to Muggles; having an emergency kit is a great idea. As soon as I opened it, Oleg was back with his wand and a small bit of dittany. "What do I do?"

"Point it at the wound on my head and say _Tergeo_ , but wait until I have a poultice prepared." I took the dittany, and ground it into little pieces on a moist gauze pad that I used some Muggle paste called antiseptic. I heard it stings like a murtlap bite, but it does a great job keeping a wound clean. "Ok, I'm ready."

Oleg pointed his wand at the back of my head and swallowed a bit. " _Tergeo_."

I felt a strange wetness at the back of my head, and before Oleg said anything, I quickly covered the wound with the poultice. I hissed in pain as it felt the wound was about to catch on fire. "Merlin's beard! These Muggles put this dross on their cuts and what-not? Are they buggered?!"

"What is that?" Oleg exclaimed seeing me in pain.

"A Muggle concoction called antiseptic. They should call it fire-paste because this burns like a doxy bite!"

Oleg looked a little distasteful that I was willing to resort to Muggle means to treat myself, but I've proven more than once that Muggles have their own intelligence. Being deprived of magic caused them to evolve differently. Using a few of their means to deal with problems wasn't a sign of weakness; it was a sign of resourcefulness, a mark of Slytherin I was glad to bear.

I was tying some gauze around my head to secure the poultice when Oleg noticed the destroyed looking glass and the huge gouge in the wall. " _Bozhe moi_ , what happened?"

I looked up and saw the disaster I caused. It wasn't a dream then, I thought. "I'm sorry." I waved my wand around in a small spiral towards the mess. " _Reparo_."

Essentially, the Reductor spell I cast went in full reverse; both of us watched as the gouge in the wall filled itself back up, and the looking glass rematerialized from the dust everywhere as if nothing had happened. I stood up and looked in the glass, blood still cold from what I saw moments before, but all I saw was my own reflection in addition to Oleg's own puzzled reflection.

"Ewan?" he asked.

At that moment, my viscera chose to reject its containments, and I was just barely quickly enough to make it to the toilet for it all to spill out. After several minutes of vomiting, I shakily leaned back and had to really focus to see Oleg standing just outside the loo, looking very concerned. I couldn't blame him, for I had just destroyed a wall, put it back together, got a bleeding knot in the back of my head, I spewed into the toilet, and haven't told him anything that happened; all in the space of about five minutes.

"I-I'm sorry," I said shakily. "I'm honestly still not sure what happened."

Oleg looked uncertain. "Do you need hospital?"

That was a reasonable question. After a nasty hit to the head and then throwing up, a concussion was a logical diagnosis, but I didn't think I had one for my own reasons. I know him though; if I didn't tell him what happened, he'd insist on me going to St. Mungo's. If I did tell him though…I didn't know which was worse: the truth or the fear of it.

"Ewan?" Oleg asked again.

I knew I had to tell him, to my shame. I think I know why it happened too, and I had to tell him. I looked at the looking glass, almost expecting to see his face again. "I saw him…"

"Who?" Oleg asked automatically.

I looked at him. I knew he knew what I meant.

Oleg blanched; I wasn't disappointed. "Him? You-Know-Who?" His wide eyes shot at the looking glass. "In that?"

"Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but I saw him." I started to feel sick again as I recalled everything. "I even heard his voice in my head."

"Oh no," Oleg said, paling.

"I don't think You-Know-Who knows where we are, or at least I hope he doesn't. I don't even know if he was actually in my head or it was just a really vivid nightmare."

That was a lie. I knew exactly why You-Know-Who was in my head tonight. I just couldn't tell Oleg, because I felt guilty. It was my fault and I couldn't admit it right now.

Oleg didn't seem assured, but leaned down beside me as he asked, "What if it isn't?"

That was Oleg for you. While he was no Legilimens, he had a good instinct and it saved him more than once. "If it isn't," I said, trying to suppress the chills inside my heart at the moment, "I think I need to go back to Hogwarts for a visit."

That surprised Oleg. "What are you thinking you will find?"

"I'm not sure," I said, "but despite my exhaustive time at the school, there's no way I've combed through every book in the library. There's got to be something. I might see if I can get an audience with Professor Dumbledore. He _must_ know something."

"What if he isn't there?"

"He's almost always there. The odds are good that he's there."

Oleg nodded. "When do you want to go?"

"This coming Saturday. If the trends are the same as the years I was there, this will also be a weekend for the Hogwarts students to be at nearby Hogsmeade. Hogwarts won't be so busy during that time as classes won't resume until Monday. The library may be a bit busy, but I doubt we will draw attention."

Oleg looked as if he understood. "Are you ok, Ewan?"

I rubbed the back of my neck. "I will be, although I don't think I'll be sleeping soundly for a while."

Oleg stood up and held out a hand. I took it and he pulled me up. He must have done it a little too fast because I lost my balance and found myself in his embrace. He must have realized he did it too fast as well, but instead of steadying me, he merely held tighter. Despite that it might have been an accident, I held firmly to Oleg as well, burying my face into his neck, ashamed at myself for practically inviting the same lust for power that took so many of my House back in Hogwarts. I thought myself immune to it by putting up a wall between myself and my peers, because I wanted nothing they possessed. Despite being as good as I was in Hogwarts, it seems that I've learned nothing at all.

Eventually, we went back to bed. Oleg held onto me as he fell back to sleep, but sleep eluded me as my mind was filled with everything that was happening. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named somehow found me, having heard my lust for power and my anger. It's no secret that he's been recruiting, and he probably felt my lust for power at that moment and decided to attempt to recruit me into his building army. Essentially, I was a good candidate being from Slytherin, his own house, not a Muggle-born, and was an exceptional wizard with ambitions. I don't know how he could have found me, but he is a powerful wizard; who knows what dark arts he has at his disposal?

As sleep finally started to claim me, my mind cursed me for the cowardice I displayed for being unable to confide the truth with Oleg. I didn't know what was worse: that I could be so easily enticed by my own magic, or that I couldn't even confide my own struggle with the person I love more than magic itself. As my eyes closed for the night, I felt a new sensation. What replaced the cold chill of greed was the pain of guilt and shame. How could I ever tell Oleg?

XXXXXXXXXX

The weekend arrived sooner than we thought, and so we Apparated to Hogsmeade. Thankfully, we had the foresight to dress accordingly as the weather was cold, snowy and a little blustery. That being said, we weren't prepared for just how cold it would be, despite our wears. We took refuge in The Three Broomsticks and ordered a round of firewhiskey. While this doesn't technically warm any witch or wizard up, the punch in the gut it gave was better than the punch to the face the weather was giving. Before we headed out, we both used the Impervius Charm on our cloaks to keep the snow off ourselves. Blowing snow was an annoyance in itself without the questions I had in my head.

We were on our way to Hogwarts, trailing two sets of students ahead of us: one set of three about twenty metres in front of us, and another set of two girls thirty metres ahead. The latter of the two seemed to be having a bit of a row, and the first set of three seemed oblivious to it. Still, it wasn't any of my business, so we paid it no mind either.

"What are you thinking you are finding at school?" Oleg asked.

I looked at him. We didn't talk a lot about my purpose coming back to Hogwarts since the night of the incident. "I'm not sure. Anything could help. I remember back in my last two years of school, in my Defence Against the Dark Arts classes, we were taught about the Imperius Curse and how to fight it."

"I remember," Oleg said. "You tried to teach me."

I smiled a little bit, remembering that it was about two years ago now. "Foolish, wasn't it?"

"I did not think so. You tried to help me."

"I wasn't serious, really. It was the best I could come up with at the time. Perhaps, if we find something at the library that's far more concrete and not nearly so risky, we can both be the better for it." I looked at Oleg. "We both have our own reasons to keep our minds impenetrable. There's got to be something we can find in Hogwarts to help us out with that. We both could use it in these times."

Oleg looked away, understanding and understandably despondent. "I am hoping that this will all be ending soon."

I looked at Oleg; I shared this sentiment. These last few years have seen far too much change in so little time, and it looked to all intents and purposes that were being hurtled towards the end of all we knew, and there was nothing we can do to stop it. "I hope so too, Oleg."

Oleg looked as if he had another question, when a piercing scream shattered the air. We looked up and saw a disturbing sight: a girl suspended six feet into the air, her hair whipping around as if it was caught by a gale that wasn't there. A girl was trying to pull her down, and the three others joined her to help. As soon as they tried, the girl sprawled right on top of them all, thrashing about as if she was in a fit.

" _Bozhe moi_ ," Oleg exhaled.

I had no idea what I had just saw, but it had to be dark magic. My wand was instantly out and I looked around for any suspicious figure, but there were none. "I don't see anybody."

"What do we do?"

I was at a loss. I looked to see one of the students take off back to Hogwarts, hoping to find help presumably. "Come on." We ran towards the group. One girl was in hysterics as another girl was trying to talk to the thrashing victim. A red-headed student was trying the same to no success. "Did anyone see what happened?"

The girl looked up at me. "No!" She was trying to maintain her nerve.

I recognized her. It was Hermione Granger, one of Potter's friends. If she had no idea what was going on, then it truly was a mystery. I was on my knees beside the victim. "Who is she?"

"Katie Bell." Hermione answered, and then noticed my wand was still out. "What do you plan to do?"

I looked at her, then at my wand. "Nothing I dare try to her." I looked around once again, feeling powerless as my mind raced for any counterjinx that might absolve Katie of her suffering. Even if I knew though, would I dare? This was dark magic, it had to be.

Katie's mouth closed and open with a scream, and I looked around and my eyes saw a broken piece of wood. Just small enough to possibly fit inside a mouth? I pointed my wand at it. " _Accio_!" The stick flew towards me and I snatched it out of the air. I pointed my wand at it again. " _Spongify_." The stick seemed not to change, but I bent it to see how flexible and soft it became. I then carefully stuck the stick sideways into her mouth.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" the red-head—Ron Weasley I noticed—said to me.

Hermione recognized what I was doing. "He's trying to make sure she doesn't bite her tongue accidentally." She looked back to me. "Good idea…"

I looked at her. "From the brightest witch I've met, that's quite a compliment."

Hermione tried to suppress a blush. I meant it, although I noted that there was a small bit of a jealous glare coming from Weasley. If the situation wasn't so serious, I might have laughed.

"Get back!" said a gruff voice. "Lemme see her!"

We stood up obediently and backed off. I looked at the source and saw the tall bulk of Hagrid lumbering towards us, followed by a rattled, snow-bitten Harry Potter. Hagrid stooped down to pick her up, and she lay still, the Spongified stick dropping from her mouth. Hermione turned her attention to the girl I didn't know the name of, who was still an understandable sight.

I still wasn't sure what to do as I watched Hagrid about to carry her away, until I heard one of the girl talk about a package as if it was very important. I looked around and found the package in question—how did I not notice it before?—and I saw something sticking out of a tear in the parchment, something that glittered greenish.

Before I could even consider what it was, Weasley attempted to pick it up but Harry stopped him. "Don't touch it!" he cried. "I've see that before. It was on display in Borgin and Burkes ages ago. The label said it was cursed. Katie must have touched it."

I looked back down at the object peeking out of the parchment paper: a cursed necklace and from Borgin and Burkes. I have heard of that place. It was located in Knockturn Alley, a street that shot off Diagon Alley and had a dark reputation of catering to the Dark Arts. If this necklace was a featured display there, it was no surprise that it was cursed. Still, a curse this severe? What kind of necklace was this?

As I thought about this, Potter took off his scarlet-and-gold scarf and with great care wrapped the necklace in it without touching any part of it. I held my breath as he carried it off with his friends back towards Hogwarts Castle.

"What do we do now?" Oleg said. "Do we follow them?"

I looked at him. "No, we'd just crowd. Give them space; Hagrid will get the girl—Katie—to the medical wing. We can't do anything else. We just need to get what we need and leave, hopefully quickly. There's something very wrong going on at Hogwarts, I can feel it."

"How do you know?"

"A Gryffindor girl somehow possesses a cursed necklace, a necklace Potter said came from a place known to display dark magical artefacts, and is carrying it from Hogsmeade? No good wizard would ever venture there, buy such an artefact and carry it out in the open. I think she was cursed somehow even before all this."

Oleg looked nervous. "By who?"

"I have no idea…but we need to exercise caution." I looked around, almost expecting to see some far off figure that could be responsible, but there was none. "Let's go. Even with the Impervius Charm, it's still bitterly cold out here."

Oleg nodded and we made our way towards the castle. When we arrived, we were disappointed to find out that Headmaster Dumbledore was away for the weekend on private business and would not come back until after classes started again the next week.

"What do we do now?" Oleg asked.

"My best guess is the library, and hope we catch Madame Pince in a good enough mood to help us."

I felt like I was kidding myself. Madame Pince was at best overly-protective of any book in the library, and Merlin help anyone that inflicts even a speck of damage to a book. I dreaded going there, even after all this time. I tried my absolute hardest to not earn her ire while I was a student, but that wasn't always possible. On bad days, exhaling on the books was merit enough for her scrutinization.

As we walked towards the Library, we came upon the hallways that led to the Dungeons in the lower levels of the castle. I lingered there, partly because I wondered how many times I traveled down that corridor to my dormitory; also, I partly lingered because there was someone I could still ask for help in my problem, should I be brave enough. Ultimately, I decided against it, and continued on towards the library.

The library was busy enough, and Madame Pince was just as merry as ever. Despite the scrutinization, Madame Pince did not bother us as we looked through the library. I warned Oleg to be gentle with the books, or else Madame Pince will give us worse than a tongue-lashing. Respect the books, treat them gently, and she will leave us alone. Oleg understood, and definitely tried very hard to be delicate. For the better part of an hour, we tried find anything that could prevent mind domination: spells, potions, enchanted items, anything. We were unsuccessful and I had to balance my frustration with temperance as I'd rather not let Madame Pince catch me feeling hostile about anything.

Finally, after another hour, I close a book and put it back on its place on the shelf. "I haven't found anything."

Oleg looked exhausted. "I am not finding anything."

"At this rate, this trip will have been for nothing," I hissed. "What else am I supposed to look?"

"You gentleman have been looking for my books for hours," came a voice. I turned to see that it was Madame Pince, eyeing us for the umpteenth time. "What _are_ you looking for?" she continued coldly.

I sighed. My frustrations wanted to banish the witch from my sight, but that wouldn't help. All I could do was either dismiss her kindly or request her help. Despite her extremely stern nature, she was genuinely helpful to anyone genuinely interested in research who also took care of her books with utmost care. Hopefully, Oleg and I met her standards for the latter. "Oleg and I are looking for means to block our minds from outside influencers, malicious or otherwise."

One of Madame Pince's harsh but thin eyebrows rose slightly, and she peered to the book I had just replaced, scrutinizing it. Satisfied with its treatment, she turned to me. "I'm afraid what you are looking for won't be found in _these_ books."

Oleg looked disappointed, but I caught some key choice of words. "Do you know which books _could_ tell me?"

Madame Pince looked me over once again. "In the Restricted Section, but if I must be blunt, I'd rather you find your methods elsewhere."

I brought my hands together, both pleadingly and to check my own temper. "Please, Madame Pince, I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't imperative. I know you know, and I promise to respect your books—"

"Enough," Madame Pince said quietly but sternly. "The books you are asking for are quite old, and even for delicate handlers difficult to manage. I'd rather you ask someone who could help you in that regard than risk harm to those books."

Oleg was starting to look frustrated at the librarian, but I looked at him and motioned that she was actually being helpful, so all I needed was a little trust. Oleg seemed to relax as I turned back to Madame Pince. "Do you know someone then?"

"Who else but the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Snape?"

I was about to thank her, but her answer stunned me enough to kill the words in my mouth. Professor Snape finally got the position for Defence Against the Dark Arts? I still remember the bitter poisonous glare he gave any one that got the position that he coveted. He did occasionally teach the class in my sixth year as Professor Lupin fell ill frequently—mainly drilling us on non-verbal magic. To finally get it after all this time, and with the rumor of the Jinx still there…

I snapped out of my stupor. "Th-thank you, Madame Pince. I will go right away."

"Thank you, Mr. Colquhoun." She eyed Oleg. "Be sure to replace every book before you do, if you please."

I recognized that cold tone. She was thankful for our care so far, but she was warning us to maintain that care up until we were out of the library. "We will, I promise."

"See that you do." She turned and left, and briskly stormed off when she noticed a second-year eating a pumpkin pasty while studying.

Oleg and I took great care to make sure we replaced each book back in its original spot, and then left. Once we were out, Oleg had to ask. "Is she always being so mean?"

"The books are practically her babies, and she's something of an overprotective mother. The best thing to do is to respect her rules and be dutiful. Honestly, she was quite civil with us today."

Oleg wasn't sure if he believed me, it appeared, but that comes to no surprise to anyone a stranger to Madame Pince. "Let's see if we can find Professor Snape, so we can finally get back to focusing on what we _should_ be doing."

"I am not liking this, Ewan," Oleg said. "I have not been meeting this Professor Snape, but I have been seeing him during Tournament. I am not trusting him."

"He's my old Head of House, Oleg. He's taught me everything I know about Potions, and it saved your life once already."

"I am not talking about that." Oleg looked away. "I am seeing him and I am seeing someone that is reminding me of Death Eaters."

I was quite surprised at Oleg's prejudices. "That's pretty damning, Oleg, to say…"

Oleg looked away. "Perhaps I am wrong, but I cannot help my feelings."

"It's hard for me to argue that since you do have better instincts than I do," I began, but solidified my mind. "but he can't be a Death Eater. Before he got the position for Defence Against the Dark Arts, he was a Potions master for even before I was a student here. I doubt Professor Dumbledore would allow someone to stay this long if he was a Death Eater."

Oleg looked back at me and didn't look assured. "You might be right, Ewan, but I still cannot be shaking my feelings."

I nodded. I wasn't going to try to convince Oleg any further right now; it was all academic anyway. "It's ok, Oleg. I'm not trying to convince you of anything, but I am asking that you trust me."

Oleg softened at that. "I am always trusting you, Ewan." He raised a hand to my cheek.

I returned the gesture, and rested my forehead against his. "Thank you."

We stood there like that for a few more seconds, and then Oleg pulled away. "I am trusting you, Ewan, but I am not trusting Professor Snape."

I smiled weakly. "Well, I can still work with that." I looked around. "We'd better get moving; I don't know if Peeves is still here and I'd rather not take the chance."

I led Oleg through the halls of Hogwarts, noting how somber it felt this time around. It wasn't due to the majority of Hogwarts students enjoying a snowy weekend at Hogsmeade either. The air…felt despondent. In all my years here, I haven't felt this level of anxiety except perhaps in the very last week of my attendance, after Cedric Diggory was killed by You-Know-Who. I didn't have much idea what happened here between then and now—apart from what I had read in the Prophet—but I couldn't help but wonder if everything that was happening in the wizarding world had reflected just as poorly here.

As we made our way to the third floor, we crossed paths with Professor McGonagall, who had been returning from the Hospital Wing—presumably checking up on Katie Bell. "Professor McGonagall," I greeted.

Professor McGonagall had a talent for keeping a stern and serious nature, but now she looked concerned and distracted. "Oh, Mr. Colquhoun. Welcome back."

"Are you all right?"

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and recomposed herself. "Yes, quite. I apologize. Did you need something?"

I knew that was all I was going to get from her, and that was fine. "I was actually here to research something in the library, when Madame Pince insisted that I speak to Professor Snape on the matter." I had forgotten that Oleg was right behind me for a moment. "Oh, introductions." I turned to Oleg. "Oleg, this is Professor McGonagall, my professor in Transfigurations while I was a student here."

Oleg bowed slightly. "It is a pleasure, Professor."

"Professor, this is Oleg Mikhailov, graduate of Durmstrang. We've known each other since the Triwizard Tournament."

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. Mikhailov." She turned to me. "If you desire to speak with Professor Snape, please walk with me as I must also speak with him."

I ventured a guess. "About Katie Bell?"

Her eyes flashed in surprised momentarily. "What do you know of this?"

I motioned back to Oleg. "Oleg and I were in Hogsmeade and on the way to Hogwarts when we saw poor Katie get cursed, although how is still a mystery."

"So you witnessed Katie being cursed?"

"I only saw her having a row with another student, and the next thing I know…" I paused to try to aptly describe what I saw. "…the next thing I know she was floating in the air."

Professor McGonagall nodded, disappointed that I hadn't seen anything else. "Very well. Come with me. Professor Snape may want to hear what you have seen."

"I don't know how I can help, but I'll do my best."

"That's all I've ever asked of you, Mr. Colquhoun."

I smiled weakly. Professor McGonagall was tough on me a lot during Transfigurations classes, and while I didn't understand it then right away, I was grateful for her attention to make sure I had everything I needed to excel. It wasn't until my third year when I started to do consistently well in Transfigurations, but it was better to arrive late than never at all. Still, those first two years of Transfigurations exams I had to work hard to pass.

We followed Professor McGonagall to Classroom 3C, which was the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom within the Serpentine Corridor. It felt strangely odd to walk this corridor again; For most of my time at Hogwarts, Defence Against the Dark Arts classes were unpredictable at best, disorganized at worst. Each year, we had a new teacher like clockwork, and every time, the teaching material changed. Perhaps with Professor Snape teaching it this time, they will have at least more than one year of teaching, although the rumor of a jinx on the position had never abated. No one knew there was a jinx for sure, but evidently there was one since the rumor alone was prophetically accurate.

We arrived at the classroom door. Before entering, she turned to me. "Wait here."

I nodded obediently as Professor McGonagall entered the room, closing the door behind her.

"What do we do now?" Oleg asked.

"We wait," I said simply. "We'll get our chance to speak to Professor Snape after Professor McGonagall is done with her business. Despite our own reasons, I fear that her business is at least slightly more important after what we saw on the way here."

Oleg had to concede that point, but after a few hours of fruitless searching, he felt obligated to be a little frustrated.

It wasn't long that we had to wait, and Professor McGonagall opened the door sooner than I expected. "Professor Snape wishes to speak with you, but only you, Mr. Colquhoun. I'm afraid he insisted."

Oleg looked as if he was going to protest, but I looked at him. "It's best if I speak to him alone then. I'm sorry, Oleg, but if Professor Snape was that specific, it's best to do exactly what he says. Potions class taught me that much."

Oleg sighed. "I am not liking this, Ewan…"

"I'll be fine, Oleg. I shouldn't be long."

Oleg still didn't look assured, but relented.

"Don't be afraid to look around the hall, but I wouldn't go too far. The Grand Staircase isn't too far from here and the stairs like to change, not to mention there are a few steps that are trick steps, so you don't want to step on them."

Oleg did not like the sound of that, and looked around as if he was expecting something else to happen.

"Just relax and stay in the hallway; you should be fine. I'll be back soon."

I opened the door and entered Classroom 3C, walking between the desks towards the back staircase that lead into the teacher's study. My heart was already beating harder than it should, and I knew it was because I was going to talk to Professor Snape. Even though I wasn't his student anymore, I was still intimidated by him. I was one of a very few fortunate that rarely earned his roused ire.

I reached the door and knocked. The door opened immediately, and I saw Professor Snape standing across from me as still as a statue. I entered and bowed slightly. "Thank you for seeing me, Professor Snape."

"Spare me the pleasantries, Mr. Colquhoun," Snape said dryly. "I do not possess the patience necessary for them."

I felt like the eleven-year-old boy freshly sorted into Slytherin all over again. Gulping, I nodded. "Yes, Professor."

"Professor McGonagall has informed me that you require my assistance."

"Yes, Professor."

"Then do not waste my time with inane babbling, Mr. Colquhoun."

I could hear the slightest edge of ice in Snape's otherwise oily voice, and I knew better than to waste Professor Snape's time, regardless of what he was doing presently. "I need you to tell me how to resist mind infiltration."

This was the first time Snape made any movement. It was subtle, but it was enough for me to see it. "Any why would you seek such a discipline?"

I knew that I had to tell Professor Snape. Something about him always told me that he could tell if I was lying or not. Thank goodness I prided myself in my honesty. "I'm afraid that You-Know-Who tried to recruit me."

Professor Snape moved like fluid; at once he closed the distance between himself and myself. While his face remained locked in its emotionless gaze, his eyes looked angry and probing. He stared into my eyes for only a few seconds, and then simply, "Explain," before turning away from me and returning to his previous position, only his back was turned to me.

I told him about seeing You-Know-Who in my flat's mirror, and hearing his voice in my head even after I destroyed the mirror.

Once I finished the account, Snape turned to me sharply. "Why should you think this was an attempt from the Dark Lord and not some childish-fear of a dream he had in the middle of the night?"

I refrained from pursing my lips in frustration. Professor Snape could tell any cue on anyone's face that would betray genuine emotions. While I was frustrated at Professor Snape's snide remarks, I couldn't let that get to me because it wouldn't help anything. "I don't know, Professor…"

One of Professor Snape's eyebrows rose slightly, although I couldn't tell if it was because he didn't believe me, or he was disappointed in my answer.

I sighed. I had to be completely honest. "I think I might have invited him into my mind."

Professor Snape's head turned a little more towards me. "My condemnation of such a foolish action notwithstanding, what would you have done to possibly do so?"

My mind drifted to Oleg, somewhere still in the hallway, partially on that it was my lust for more power to protect him that triggered the episode as well as how he would react if he found out. "I wanted more power." I said it in the past tense, but truthfully, what I wanted had never truly faded; merely covered up with fear. "No, I want more power. I _need_ more power."

At once, that chill I felt was back, and there was no hiding it. My heart was racing and even my breath quickened, and I half-expected to hear You-Know-Who's voice again.

"Fool!" Professor Snape snarled.

I snapped out of my feelings and looked wide-eyed at him.

"Such arrogance! I would have expected this level of arrogance from Potter on top of his unbridled emotions, but from you? You have thoroughly disappointed me, Mr. Colquhoun."

I stood properly admonished, although I wasn't sure why at first. Lust for power I knew was a path to a dark side of the world, but what was the harm of it if it meant protecting those whom I cared about?

"But I suppose it was only natural that it would happen. Leave it to the foolish to think all problems can be solved with more power. With the flagrant use of those feelings and lusts dominating your mind when it should be clear and focused, you will never stop what you fear."

I felt a flush of anger for being demeaned, as Professor Snape so often does in his criticisms, but his words reached the depths of my brain. Did he just tell me what I needed to do? Clear my mind? Control my emotions? It certainly sounded like it. Just as fast as the flush of anger arose, so did it vanish. "Thank you, Professor."

"For what?" Professor Snape said. He turned away. "You are dismissed."

I bowed my head and turned to leave. I descended the steps and made my way back to Oleg, hoping that I didn't make him wait too long. As soon as I stepped outside of the classroom, I found Oleg deep in conversation with one of the ghosts of the school: Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, the Ghost of Gryffindor House.

"Snape is certainly one of the best Potions professors this school has had," he said to Oleg happily. "As a matter of fact, the potions master position has been filled with the finest potion brewers the world has ever seen!" He turned to see that I was walking towards then. "Good evening, Mr. Colquhoun!"

"Hello, Sir Nicholas. It's good to see you again."

"Thank you!"

"I should thank you for making sure Oleg wasn't too bored while I was gone."

"It's always a pleasure, young wizard. I do love to spend more time with both of you, but preparations for my Deathday party require my presence, so I must bid you both 'adieu'!"

As the ghost drifted away, I looked at Oleg. "You were asking him about Snape?"

Oleg looked weary. "I was asking one question, and he was answering it…and then he was still talking."

I had to chuckle. "Yeah, Sir Nicholas is happy to talk about anything. He's quite the friendly ghost. I'm glad you didn't ask him about the Headless Hunt though; he would never shut up."

"The what?"

"Eh, it's a ghost thing."

Oleg still looked confused, but decided not to pursue the issue. "Did the Professor tell you want you are wanting?"

"Kind of, yes, although he did chew me out before then."

Oleg looked shocked and concerned. "Why?"

"Eh…," I began, but I hesitated. This wasn't the best place to talk about it, even if I was ready. "…I'd rather not talk about it here. Like I've said before, even walls have ears and Hogwarts' is certainly no exception.

Oleg had to agree. Ever since he got here, he wasn't sure how anyone could study here because it was so busy. I had to assume that Durmstrang was a lot less…alive.

"Let's head back towards Hogsmeade. There's no Apparating on the school grounds, and I can't say for sure where the Anti-Apparation Charm begins or ends, so we may have to go all the way to Hogsmeade, weather be damned."

Oleg nodded. He seemed reluctant to talk much in Hogwarts. He was like that even when we first met, and doubtlessly it was due to his instincts.

We were on our way back to the Great Hall when we encountered someone I had not recognized: a short, portly wizard with a moustache that reminded me too much of a walrus. He looked like he might have had one too many fire brandies, or perhaps it was just age. We nearly ran into each other. "Excuse me, sir?" I asked to get his attention.

He looked up. "Oh, so sorry, my boy. I didn't see you there."

"It's quite all right…" I almost said 'Professor' out of habit, but honestly, I had no idea what this wizard's position was or even what his name was. "I'm so sorry, I did not ask for your name."

He smiled rather friendly. "Oh, think nothing of it all. I'm Horace Slughorn, master of Potions."

I had heard of that name in passing. "Professor Slughorn? The old Potions master from before Professor Snape taught it?"

He seemed to light up. "Oh, you've heard of me?"

"Indeed I have. I've heard you were not only an excellent teacher in your time before, but also a magnificent brewer of potions of all kinds."

"Oh, you flatter me, dear boy," he said. "Although I can also say I'm a master of all kinds of potions, if you catch my meaning."

He laughed just a little too hard at his joke, but I laughed along politely. No need to offend the old wizard. "Yes, I suppose I do."

"Oh, my dear boy, I don't believe I got your name…"

"Oh, yes, Ewan Colquhoun," I said. "I graduated from here a little over a year ago. I graduated after the events of the Triwizard Tournament."

There was a flash of regret on his face, but it was gone as soon as it was there. "Yes, beastly business, indeed. But I dare say that I've heard some of you."

"You have?"

"I heard you were a rather exemplar student in your day yourself, quite proficient in Potions and Charms, I hear."

"Well, I don't like to brag," I said, "but I was one of the few in Slytherin house to excel in all years of potions."

"Quite a feat, indeed," he said. "What brings you back to Hogwarts, dear Ewan?"

There was something about Professor Slughorn that I couldn't put my finger on, but he was friendly enough. I felt that I could speak freely with him. "Well, I had spoken to Professor Snape about means to resist outside influences. I have a little experience from Defence Against the Dark Arts, but I wanted to see if there was more. In this political climate, I thought it wise to broaden my skills."

That flash of regret was once again there, but it was gone again. "Yes, yes, that would be wise." He seemed to snap out of it. "Well, perhaps I can be of assistance to that."

"You can?" I said, genuinely surprised.

"My dear boy, I _am_ a master of potions, and that includes antidotes as you might imagine. Eh, perhaps I can teach you a thing or two, if you can impress me with a potion of your own."

I wasn't sure how I felt about being challenged to make a potion in exchange for information, but I didn't see the harm of it. "You up to it, Oleg? Maybe I can show you a thing or two."

Oleg shrugged. He looked disappointed that he wasn't leaving the castle faster than he hoped, but he wasn't going to voice that in front of me.

"I don't think we will be long, probably no longer than any of my Potions classes that is." I turned back to Professor Slughorn. "Very well."

"Excellent, my dear boy!" He exclaimed. "Come with me to the dungeons to the Potions classroom. I'm pretty sure I shan't have to remind you where that is."

"After seven years, it's difficult to forget, Professor."

"Quite indeed."

In due time, I was back in the Potions Classroom deep in the dungeons. I couldn't shake the feeling of nostalgia from all the lessons I had in this dark classroom. This time around, there was more light illuminating the room this time around, and it was warmer. I guessed that Professor Slughorn found Professor's Snape's choice of ambience too dreary.

Professor Slughorn loaned me a pewter cauldron and laid several ingredients for me to select. "Well, my dear boy, if you wish to learn a few more secrets in keeping one's mind free from outside influence, I would like you to brew me a Draught of Peace of acceptable quality. I should warn you though, very few have brewed a potion of sufficient quality. Nevertheless, good luck to you."

"With all due respect, Professor," I said. "I don't need luck. I'm quite practiced at this particular potion." I looked at Oleg, who smiled. Oleg wasn't the best at potions, but I taught him how to make this one in case he needed it when I wasn't around. "Let's begin…"

I started off very carefully measuring the ingredients I needed for the potion, as well as making sure I had exactly the amount of water I needed in the cauldron. The Draught of Peace was ironically a very difficult potion to brew, and a large number of students in my fifth-year of class failed spectacularly at it. Even I had barely enough time to complete it, but thankfully, mine was at least good enough to merit complete silence from Professor Snape.

As I carefully mixed each ingredient and stirred each in both clockwise and counterclockwise, Professor Slughorn and I discussed some of the happenings in Hogwarts, as well as some of my own ventures in potion-making. While I hadn't dared to create potions due to the volatile nature of some of the ingredients, I did regularly prepare potions and kept a solid stock in my pantry. I mentioned that I regularly keep a stock of an antidote to Veritaserum, and mentioned that I started the habit after unknowingly taking Veritaserum from Madam Undersecretary Umbridge.

When I mentioned the name, Professor Slughorn shook his head. "I'm sorry that you had to deal with that dreadful woman. I taught her myself, and combined with her being idiotic, I tried my best to make sure she had no position of power. I'm sure you can see why."

"Yes," I said as I monitored the potion mixture as it simmered. I was looking for a purplish color which was the confirmation to proceed to the next step. "I believe it. I don't think anyone likes her."

"I'd be hesitant to disagree. She remains a discredit to Slytherin House, despite its already discolored reputation."

The potion mixture turned purple, and I added a measured sample of crushed porcupine quills, watching carefully as the mixture turned a turquoise color. "I had no idea that she was in Slytherin, although that does explain why she was so keen to ask me about Hogwarts two summers ago."

"Yes, indeed," Professor Slughorn said. "I was Head of Slytherin House before Professor Snape was, and I can't be sorry to say that I was glad to see her finally graduate from here."

"You were head of my house?"

"Indeed I was, for a long time. I often organized a private club for exemplar students each year. I even have quite a collection of talented students this year as well, although I can't promise most of them will make the shelf."

I had just added powdered unicorn horn after the potion mixture returned to a purple color, when the last part of Slughorn's statement struck an odd chord. "The shelf, sir?"

"Everyone who wishes to be someone ends up on my shelf. Perhaps if we have the time, I will show you it." He looked at my cauldron. "How comes it, Ewan?"

The potion mixture—currently a crimson color—was still simmering, and I had to wait until the mixture return to a purple color before I could add more powdered moonstone. "It shouldn't be long now…"

In due time, I reached the final step of the brewing process. I had added more ground porcupine quills, and the mixture was now a white color. After simmering, I had one final step to do: adding seven drops of hellebore. "The moment of truth…" I said. I took the syrup of hellebore and dropped exactly seven drops into the brew. Once I did, it turned a turquoise-blue color. As it simmered, silvery vapors could be seen riding from the simmering brew. I smiled; silvery vapor was the telltale sign of a properly-brewed Draught of Peace.

Even Professor Slughorn seemed delighted. "I dare say, my good boy, you could possibly rival Mr. Potter as a Prince of Potions yourself with your skills."

I looked up from my brew. "Mr. Potter? Harry Potter, sir?"

"Yes, indeed, the prodigy himself!" He beamed. "He's in my N.E.W.T.-level Potions class this year, and it's been a delight to have him in my class."

I looked at Oleg, who merely shrugged as he was content to wait in silence. I looked back at Professor Slughorn. "I didn't realize he was so gifted in Potions…" Truthfully, I didn't know of Potter's overall aptitude in his studies as I was more concerned with mine.

"How strange, Professor Snape inferred the same thing; but gifted, indeed! It was like teaching his mother all over again, and I couldn't be happier."

Something about Potter being so gifted in Potions sounded odd, although I couldn't argue the point succinctly since all I had was the prejudices of my house at the time of my tenure, as well as my own preconceptions of Potter. Stranger things have happened, I guessed.

"As for your own excellence in Potions, I'm almost sorry that I haven't had you as a student, but it is good to see that Professor Snape has taught you very well, although I never doubted that for a second."

"Thank you, Professor," I smiled. "Now, as we agreed…"

"Ah, yes, quite right. Let's deal with your new potion first and then let's speak more in my office."

Sooner or later, Oleg and I were in Professor Slughorn's office. He showed me his shelf of valued students, introducing me to a few by name. I mentioned I have met a few at the Ministry, and that seemed to please him that I was connected.

Finally, after a little bit of self-glorification, he finally shared with me what I had come here for.

"You already have some skill in preventing poisonings and reversing the affects of potions that will compromise your normal behaviors. Take for example Veritaserum: while an antidote exists, as you well know of and practice, a skilled witch or wizard could in fact suppress the effects of the serum by sheer willpower. It requires a clear mind and control of one's emotions, and it's a discipline that requires considerable skill to master."

I nodded as I understood. "Professor Snape more or less inferred as much."

"I expect so, especially as skilled as he is. The discipline itself is called Occlumency, and a simple form of it is simply clearing your mind and controlling your emotions. Advanced skills in it, and you could even convincingly lie under the influence of Veritaserum."

"Occlumency?" I said. "I wonder why I haven't been told of this before here…"

"Eh, it's something that should be taught in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but due to the…admittedly-turbulent education there, it's often lost."

"Yes, I see your point." I felt that I had gotten what I had sought today, and that it was time to leave. "Thank you so much for your time, Professor Slughorn. You've been very helpful to me. I hope you have a good rest of the year." I turned to leave.

"Mr. Colquhoun, before you go…"

I turned back to him.

"I wish to tell you that I'm pleased to see more of your sort come from Slytherin. I fear that the stock in Slytherin is quite thin as of late."

I smiled. "Well, it's up to me to prove to the world that a Slytherin is not destined to become You-Know-Who."

At the mention of You-Know-Who, Professor Slughorn seemed especially nervous, and didn't really shake it off. I didn't think much of it, especially in the current climate. "Y-yes, yes, indeed. Thank you, Mr. Colquhoun."

I bowed slightly. "The pleasure is mine, Professor."

Finally—and to Oleg's relief—we left the dungeons and made our way outside, although Mr. Filch kept stalking us with his Secrecy Sensor until we left the grounds. We arrived on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, and Apparated back to my flat.

"Well, that was an enlightening day," I said. "I'm sorry if you were uncomfortable there, Oleg."

"It is not your fault," Oleg said.

"Well, thank you for coming along, regardless. I did find what I was looking for."

"This Occlumency?"

"Yeah, that's what Professor Slughorn called it. I wish I researched it more properly, but I think Professors Snape and Slughorn were very helpful. It's not so much a spell, but rather a discipline. Professor Snape gave me a hint by saying that an emotional mind won't cut it, while Professor Slughorn said that such a discipline could even block the effects of Veritaserum, even without an antidote."

"So we are needing to clear our minds?" Oleg said slowly.

"Partially," I said. "It also requires tempering our internal emotions. Emotions act like beacons to our memories and experiences, which means an insidious witch or wizard could find them, twist them around and use them against us." I looked away. "Strangely enough, I did that quite regularly before I met you while I was a student at Hogwarts. Although, it has admittedly been a long time before I've had to do that. It might prove difficult without practice now."

"How are we going to try?"

I weighed the various methods of how to infiltrate a wizard's mind where Occlumency would be affective, and beyond Veritaserum, they were insidious indeed. I could easily brew Veritaserum myself, but it takes a full lunar cycle to produce it, and even then, it was a very small amount. "Well, I could brew us some Veritaserum, but it takes roughly a month to make. If you're content to wait that long, we could while we wait work on clearing our minds. I've heard of a Muggle-technique of meditation that might work, but I'll need to research more into it. Otherwise…" I hesitated. I really didn't want to bring up this suggestion, but it was admittedly more direct and practical.

"Otherwise?" Oleg ventured.

I sighed. "Otherwise we may have to resume exercises under the Imperius Curse again…and honestly I'd rather not."

Oleg nodded, but he looked at me. "I am not wishing you to do anything you are not wanting to…but we might have to because I am thinking we are running out of time."

I looked at him. I couldn't disagree with him; it was only a matter of time when You-Know-Who would attempt to overthrow the Ministry. It's likely he already has agents in the Ministry. Every day I was there, I felt like I was walking around in a death trap just waiting to be sprung, and it became an effort to even show up there, knowing that one day, I might not leave again.

Time was also running out for me to be honest about the incident earlier this week; if I wasn't from this point on, it would continue to gnaw at me, potentially impeding on my ability to use Occlumency. It could even attract the attention of You-Know-Who again. If I was to succeed in this, I needed to be honest.

I sighed; here goes nothing. "Oleg…I'm afraid I wasn't honest about everything…"

Oleg blinked, surprised to hear me say that clearly.

"That night when I thought I saw You-Know-Who…" I started, feeling more and more like a slimy toad with each syllable. "…I didn't tell you everything. Yes, I thought I saw him in the mirror, but I didn't tell you why I did."

Oleg's brow furrowed, clearly puzzled.

I took a big breath, as if I was about to dive into the Black Lake itself. "I think it was because he felt my lust for more power."

Oleg had to process that a little, and I could tell that he was still confused. "Why were you lusting for more power?"

I felt a wetness in my eyes. "Because…because I didn't think I could be powerful enough to protect you—us if the worst should befall." My lip trembled as I choked back tears. "Everything we've been doing to protect us…I felt that it wasn't enough with everything going on…I just…" I wiped my eyes. "I just want to protect you from anything that could happen…and I still feel like I'm not strong enough to do it. Because of that, I practically invited the Dark Lord to our very door step! Also, I didn't put enough trust in you to protect us as well, all because I was afraid. I was so selfish into thinking that I needed more power that I likely jeopardized both of us. I'm so sorry…"

Oleg lowered his head, and I couldn't tell what he was thinking. Here was the moment: I told him the truth about what happened that night, and that You-Know-Who may have found us based on that. It was my selfishness and lack of trust that probably ruined it all for us. All I could do was apologise, and hope Oleg was a forgiving sort.

Oleg looked up. "I am not asking you to protect me, Ewan…"

I could only look at him. I was expecting some form of scorn or anger, but he didn't have it.

"I am asking you to love me…"

I couldn't contain myself after that; the tears flowed freely. All I could do was cry into his shoulder and say "I'm sorry" over and over. Oleg wasn't mad at me; if anything, he was simply disappointed that I was burdening so much of our safety upon me, even though it's been a joint effort since the beginning. I was ashamed that by doing so that I felt inadequate enough to desire more power. You-Know-Who was right about one thing; one of my worst fears was inadequacy.

Finally, I pulled my face out of Oleg's shoulder, and I'm sure my eyes were red and swollen. "I will always love you…nothing in this world will ever change that."

Oleg's own eyes were moist with tears as well. "I know." He stood up. "Let us go."

I looked up at him. "To where?"

He smiled slightly. "You are needing to rest." He offered a hand.

I took it and he led me into the bedroom. It was still early in the evening, but it seemed like it had already been a day. We were in each other's embrace and wouldn't let go until sleep finally claimed us. Oleg is always so warm, and when I am in his embrace, I feel like it's a different sense of magic, and it takes me to a whole new realm every time. It was then I began to realize that love was indeed the most powerful magic that has ever been found, and I would fight to the death to preserve it. Maybe it could even conquer death itself.


End file.
